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0 U R 



DEPARTED FRIENDS, 

OR 

GLORY 

OF THE 

IMMOKTAL LIFE, 

EMBRACING 

THE PROPHECIES AND PROOFS OF THE GREAT DOCTRINE OF 
IMMORTALITY — IN THE ANALOGIES OF NATURE — THE 
LONGINGS AND DEMANDS OF THE SOUL— THE 
CLEAR AND SUFFICIENT ASSURANCES 
OF DIVINE REVELATION : 

WITH MEDITATIONS UPON 

DEATH, RESURRECTION, HEAVEN, ITS BEATITUDE AND GLORY. ITS 

SERVICE AND SOCIETY CONFIRMED AND ILLUSTRATED BY 

THK TESTIMONIES OF MANY OF THE MOST GIFTED 
AND SANCTIFIED MINDS OF PAST AGES. 

By J, E. STEBBINS, 

AUTHOR OF " MOSES AND THE PROPHETS, CHRIST AND THE APOSTLES, 
FATHERS AND MARTYRS." 

ILLUSTRATED. 

SOLD BY AGENTS ONLY. — 




HARTFORD: 

Ju. STEBBINS. 



1 8 6 7. 




Trjpitered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1807, 
By L. STEBBINS, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Connecticut. 



STEREOTYPED AT THE 
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 
No. 4 Spring Lane. 



TO the Friends of the 341,670 (Official Report) 
Deceased Soldiers, who volunteered in Defence 
of the Union : 
Separating themselves from the sweet influences of home, and 
tender sympathies of bosom friends ; bidding adieu to all they 
held dear on earth; struggling with the "King of terrors," in 
peril and suffering on the battle-field, in hospitals, and in military 
prisons, without the soothing attentions of mother, wife, or sister, 
in their most trying hour; sacrificing their lives in the prime 
of manhood, for the good of their country, is 

This Volume 



MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



Our Departed Friends. 



Glory of the Immortal Life. 



M 



an that is born of a woman is of 
few days and full of trouble; he 
cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down. 

J on xiv. 1, 2. 



then a few years are come, then I 
shall go the way whence I shall 



not return. 



Jon x 



xvi. 22. 



1-^oit I know that thou wilt bring me to 
death and to the house appointed 
for all living. 

Jon xxx. 23. 



0 



NE generation passeth away, and 
another generation cometh. 



Ij] CCLESIASTES i. 4. 

All go unto one place ; all are of th 
dust, and all turn to dust again. 

Ecclesiastes hi. 20. 
or all his days are sorrows, and hi 



P 



travail grief. 



E 



CCLESIASTES H. 23. 



on. the living know that they shall 
e. 



E 



CCLESIASTES IX. 0. 



0 



ur days on the earth are as a 
shadow, and there is none abiding. 

hron. xxix. 15. 



hou changest his countenance, and 
i a 

J ob xiv. 20. 



sendest him away 



hen shall the dust return to the 
was ; and the spirit shall 



Then snan tn 
earth as it wi 
return unto God who gave it. 

E CCLESIASTES Xli. 7 



Then shall the righteous shine forth 
as the sun in the kingdom of their 
Father. 

Matt. xiii. 43. 

Then shall the King say unto them 
on his right hand, Come, ye blessed 
of my Father, inherit the kingdom pre- 
pared for you from the foundation of 
the world. 

ATT. xxv. 34. 



M. 



And they that be wise shall shine as 
the brightness of the firmament ; 
and they that turn many to righteous- 
ness as the stars for ever and ever. 



JL)an. xii. 3. 



And God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes ; and there shall be 
no more death, neither sorrow. 

I'tEV. xxi. 4. 

™he gift of God is eternal life, through 
1 Jesus Christ our Lord. 



Romans vi. 2 



23.. 



For I reckon that the sufferings of this 
present time are not worthy to be 
compared with the glory which shall be 
revealed in us. 

Romans viii. 18. 

In my Father's house arc many man- 
sions. I go to prepare a place for 
you. 

John xiv. 2. 

For we know that if our earthly house 
of this tabernacle were dissolved, 
we have a building of God, an house 
not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. 

II. \j<m. v. 1. 



PRINCIPAL TOPICS 

TREATED OF IN THIS WORK. 



Page. 

Universal Belief in Immortality, 13 

Prevalent Ideas of the Future in the Early Ages, 20 

Opinions of Philosophers, 28 

Yearnings of Childhood and the Soul's Thirst, 34 

Desire for continuous Life and Remembrance, 41 

The Soul's Longings derived from God, 46 

Aspirations for Mental and Moral Perfection, 49 

Man's Victories over Matter, 56 

Universe for Man's Study, 60 

Man alone always Progressive, 64 

Heart-culture and Conscience, 67 

Examples of Moral Heroism, 74 

Retribution Incomplete here, 77 

Forebodings of Retribution, — . v . . . 79 

Doctrine of Retribution necessary to Society, 87 

Problem of Evil solved, 90 

Inequalities of the Present Life, 93 

Mind by its Nature imperishable, 106 

Theory of Annihilation absurd, 108 

Mysteries inexplicable if there be no Future, 129 

Soul superior to the Senses, 145 

Man's Endowments prophetic, 158 

All doubt dispelled by Revelation, 160 

The Bible pre-supposes Immortality, , 165 

Strange Indifference of the Worldling, 179 

Relative Value of Earth and Heaven, 185 

The Glorious Hope, 188 

Death the Portal to the Unseen, 189 

What Death is, 192 

Heathen Views of Death, , 194 

Christ's Mission, or Christ Restoring to Life, 199 

Christian Views of Death, , 201 

Lessons of Jesus' Grave, 213 

The Grave, how regarded by Heathen Nations, 214 

The Resurrection, 225 

The Soul of Infinite Moment, 244 

Visions of Dying Believers, 248 

Doctrine of Purgatory, , . . . 251 

Home Influence and the Eternal Home,. , 262 

Necessity of Heaven to Pagan Minds, .272 

Various Views concerning Heaven, 273 

The Heaven of the Bible, 280 



PRINCIPAL TOPICS TREATED OF IN THIS WORK. 



Page. 

The Locality of Heaven, 294 

Heaven as a Condition, 307 

Glimpses of Heaven granted here, 319 

Foretastes and Victory in Death, 334 

The Heavenly Inheritance, 338 

Sinlessness the Crowning Glory, 345 

The Evil of Sin, 346 

Material World affected by Sin, 347 

Bliss of Heaven represented by Negatives, no Curse, no Night, no 

Sickness, no Sorrow, no Death, 350 

Positive Bliss of Heaven in Song, &c, 374 

Occupations of Heaven, 397 

Fellowships of Heaven, 423 

Measure of Joy and Recompense, 430 

Christian Fellowship Eternal, 435 

Society of Angels, 437 

Christ the Rapture of Heaven, 440 

Guardian Angels, 443 

Angels Visiting the Earth, 447 

Ministrations of Angels,. 448 

Recognition of Friends, 463 

Reunion a Christian Anticipation. 470 

Precious Revelations in Heaven, 476 

Children Saved, and an attraction of Heaven, 483 

Views of the Early Reformers, 486 

The Glorification of the Bod}^ 506 

The Glorification of the Spirit, 513 

Permanence necessary to perfect enjoyment — Heaven permanent,533 

Soul-Education the Work of Life, 546 

The Ripe Christian and his Glorious Destiny, 554 

Home anticipations delightful, 558 

NAMES OF PERSONS WHOSE VIEWS ON THESE TOPICS ARE QUOTED. 

Homer, Tertullian, Janeway, 

Socrates, Jerome, Halyburton, 

Plato, Cyprian, Watts, 

Aristotle, Chrysostom, Flavel, 

Demosthenes, Basil, Doddridge, 

Cicero, Augustine, Robert Hall, 

Strabo, Eliot, Dick, 

Cato, Newton, Humboldt, 

Josephus, Bishop Butler, Henry Martyn, 

Irenaeus, Des Cartes, Griffin, 

Clement, Baxter, Payson, 

Whately, Hitchcock, 

Harbaugh, Thompson. 



/ 



PRE FA C E 



Changes in human society affect its demands, its character, 
and history. They are the inevitable consequences of the condition 
of things in the world, and human life in all cases must be subject 
to them. Everything beneath the sun will fade and pass away. 
The hopes and promises which make the morning of life so bright 
are seldom realized at its noon, and the sun at evening, as far as 
temporal things are concerned, often goes down amid cloud and 
disappointment. 

It would seem that the knowledge of this certain failure of things 
on the earth would incite the mind of man to institute the inquiries 
oftener, " What is abiding? Is there anything to which the human 
soul can attach itself that will stand the shocks of time?" The 
present volume, it is believed, will aid the candid seeker after truth, 
although it claims to be little else than the echo of other voices that 
have sounded, at different periods, down through the ages of time. 
This can scarcely be otherwise, for here we consider those things 
which change does not affect. The realities which meet us here 
are the same to-day that they were a thousand years ago. Our con- 
cern with them is also always the same, and their power over mind 
and heart to secure the requisite end of being is in no wise different. 
This work, then, comes to all hearts and homes alike, appealing as 
well to the unlettered student as to those of greater insight. It in no 
way professes to be a learned discussion, in which divines and 



vi 



PREFACE. 



critics can revel with satisfaction to their profounder and sharper in- 
tellects. But we think that it can never fail to interest the thoughtful 
spirit to study the workings of the human mind, and observe how 
from the beginning it sought to throw off the shackles of ignorance, 
pierce through the mists of darkness and superstition, and look with 
clear vision over and through upon the other side. The ancients 
walked in dim shadow, but they were continually struggling for the 
light. Why, then, should mortals living under the full glory of the 
sun of inspiration, with the unerring certainties of revelation before 
them, so often shut out that light which others so earnestly coveted? 
The gates of the Celestial City have been opened to us, and our 
departing Christian friends catch a glimpse of the brightness of the 
heavenly world, — 

" Ere the farewell is hushed in this." 

Standing as we do between the mortal and the immortal, constantly 
liable to be removed from this into that, it is well to be assured of 
what awaits us — to be conversant with that which we must meet. 

The considerations herein expressed are for every household in 
the land. That they may guide some mind in its search after what 
is true, — that they may confirm some who are doubting, quicken 
some who are hesitating, stir the thoughtless, and help those who 
have low views to grasp the divine ideal, — is the humble wish of 
the writer. That the work may carry consolation to many death- 
smitten circles is the fervent prayer, with the hope that it will also 
give glad conceptions to all who look upon this picture of the glories 
of the immortal life, inasmuch as its brightest and only worthy 
tints have been borrowed from the sketches of divinest models — 
the sacred artists. j p c 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

UNIVERSAL BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY IN ALL TIME. 

Page 

Prevalent Ideas of the Future in the Early Ages. — Power of persistent Self- 
Inquiry. — Confession of Lord Bolingbroke. — Argument of Dick. — Homeric 
Views. — Poets of Antiquity. — Mountain Illustration. — Socrates. — Opinions of 
Philosophers of different Nations 13 



CHAPTER II. 

THE DESIRE OF CONTINUOUS LIFE AN INHERENT PRINCIPLE OF 

MIND. 

Yearnings of Childhood. — The Soul's Thirstings. — Fear of Socrates. — Cicero's 
Instructions to his Pupils. — Dying Testimony of Franklin. — Of Byron. — Univer- 
sal Action reveals Desire. — Perpetual Longings. — Inferences 34 



CHAPTER III. 

ASPIRATIONS FOR JIENTAL AND MORAL PERFECTION. 

Nature of the Soul. — Opinions of different Nations and Writers. — Power of Mind 
over Matter. — Influence of Disease. — Varied Capacity of Mind. — The mightiest 
never satisfied. — Influence of Science. — Obstacles to Intellectual Greatness. — 
Limitless Objects 49 



CHAPTER IV. 

MORAL PERCEPTIONS PRESUPPOSE A FUTURE. 

Man as an Intellectual Being. — Heart-Culture. — Flowers and Icebergs. — The Inner 
Light. — The Moral Virtues. — Influence of Love. — Of Friendship. — Examples 
of Moral Heroism. — Strong Presumption of the Continuance of Moral Powers in a 
more perfect State 66 



CHAPTER V. 

FOREBODINGS OF RETRIBUTION. 

Sphere of Conscience. — Belshazzar. — Testimony from Profane History. — Webster, 
the Murderer. — Moral Convictions answering to Moral Laws. — Society without 
Virtue. — Force of Moral Obligation. — Tendency toward Perfection. — Its Indi- 
cations 79 

(vii) 



viii 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 
INEQUALITIES OF THE PRESENT LIFE. 

Fags 

Teachings of Nature. — Character of God. — Virtue and Vice unrewarded here. — 
Waldensian Persecution. — Scenes in the Reign of Louis XIV. — Days of Martyr- 
dom. — Mysterious Providences. — Life apparently a Season of Discipline 93 



CHAPTER VII. 

MIND, FROM ITS VERY NATURE, IMPERISHABLE. 

Brahminical Philosophy. — The Poet's Soliloquy. — Sleep and Death. — Argument 
of Descartes. — Infidel Theory of Annihilation — Nature never warrants it. — 
Changes in Vegetable and Animal Kingdoms. — Flavel and Hall. — Physiological 
Changes 106 



CHAPTER VIII. 

INEXPLICABLE MYSTERIES ATTEND THE DENIAL OF A FUTURE. 

The Coliseum. — Earth a Tomb. — Meditations on the Supposition of no Future. — 
Birth of Error. — Waste not in God's Plan. — Immortality a desirable Fiction, if 
it be one 121 

CHAPTER IX. 

ELEMENTS OF PRESENT HAPPINESS A WARRANT FOR THEIR 
CONTINUANCE. 

Analysis of present Life the only Basis without Revelation. — Nature as a Guide. 

— Abundant Provision for Happiness. — Organs of Sense. — Social Joy. — The 
Mourning Exile. — Sympathy. — Imagination. — Genius. — Restoration of Order. 

— Truth gilding the gloomy Picture 140 



CHAPTER X. 

GLORY AND CERTAINTY BEAM FROM REVELATION. 

The sure Guide. — Revelation a Sun. — Harmony between Nature and Revelation. — 
Bible not dealing in direct Assertions. — Patriarchs influenced by the Belief of 
endless Life. — Prophetical Writings. — Christ. — The Apostles. — Vision of John. 160 



CHAPTER XI. 

WISDOM CRIES, A WORK TO BE DONE. 

Time with Reference to Eternity. — Strange Indifference of the Worldling. — Direc- 
tion of Human Effort. — Cardinal Wolsey. — The Excursion. — Blessedness of 
immortal Life. — The Heathen Philosopher 177 



CHAPTER XII. 

DEATH THE PORTAL TO THE UNSEEN. 

Sentence in Eden. — Nature of the Change. — Valley and Stream unknown. — Heathen 
Notions of Death. — Sounds from Hindoo Shores. — Sceptical Ideas. — Effect of 
Christ's Mission. — Luther and Melancthon. — Christian Views. — No Death in 
Heaven 189 



CONTENTS. ix 

CHAPTER XIII. 
THE GRAVE. 

Page 

Grave faithful to its Trust. — Associations of Jesus' Grave. — Voice issuing from 
it. — The Grave as regarded by heathen and unchristian Nations. — Christian Views. 
— As a Home. — A Harbor. — A Resting-Place. — As the Threshold of Heaven. . . 211 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE RESURRECTION. 

Life's Epochs. — Insufficiency of Human Philosophy. — Analogy of Nature. — Scrip- 
ture Declarations. — Christ's Resurrection a Pledge to Believers. — Whately's 
Opinion. — Thompson's. — Bible Evidence sufficient. — Souls will sparkle as Gems 
in the Redeemer's Crown at the Last 225 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE INTERMEDIATE STATE. 

The Soul of infinite Moment. — Votaries of Science. — Dying Thief. — Moses and 
Elias on the Mount. — Premonitions of Conscience. — Joys of Believers. — Early 
Church History. — Opinion of primitive Fathers. — Hades. — Pneumatology of 
Paul. — Views of Whately 244 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FUTURE THE SOUL'S ETERNAL HOME. 

Universality of Home Influence. — Providential Designs. — The eternal Home.— 
Views of Reason and Imagination. — Character given to a future Home by these. 
— The only true Picture found in the Gospel. — A little While and the Christian 
will reach the blessed Mansions 262 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

Necessity of Heaven to Pagan Minds. — The various heavenly Creations. — The 
New Jerusalem of the Bible. — Heaven prefigured by Paradise and Canaan. — 
Locality of Heaven. — Opinions of various Writers. — Inspired Declarations. — 
Inconceivable Glories 272 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

HEAVEN AS A PLACE. 

Natural Ideas associated with Place. — Analogies. — Christ's Teachings. — Spiritual 
Discernment. — Jewish Faith. — The Soul's Constitution demands Place. — Opinions 
of Harbaugh. — Bliss of Heaven sufficient to satisfy the Soul's utmost Demands. . 294 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HEAVEN AS A STATE. 

Man never satisfied with Revelation. — Platonic Notion. — Senses the natural Chan- 
nel of Activity. — Heart-sentiment superior to Place. — Illustrations drawn from 
the Blind and Deaf. — Poet Imagery. — Heaven to be sought. . . 307 



X 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XX. 
GLIMPSES OF THE BLESSED THINGS TO COME. 

Page 

Jewish Emotions at beholding Canaan. — Power of first Glimpses. — Living Illus- 
trations. — Pilgrim on the Mount. — Foretastes at the Close of Life. — Hall, 
Payson, and Janeway. — Triumphant Death of youthful Disciples. — Faith at the 
open Grave. — Pisgah Views frequent among the Faithful 319 

CHAPTER XXI. 
THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE A PECULIAR GOOD. 

Emotions at earthly Acquisitions. — Superiority of heavenly. — The first Paradise. 

— The second eclipsing it. — Perpetual Youth. — Sinlessness the crowning Glory. 

— The Faith-inspired Soul rich. — Watchfulness necessary 338 

CHAPTER XXII. 

NEGATIVE BLISS OF THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

Relations of Negation and Affirmation. — Bible Representations mainly negative. — 
Characteristics. — No Curse, no Death. — No Danger, no Sorrow or Mourning. — 
Blessedness of those who enter. — Perfect Vision. — The whole Being complete. . 350 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

POSITIVE BLISS OF THE HEAVENLY WORLD. 

Whisperings of Prophecy. — Music an Element of heavenly Bliss. — Joy of actual 
Service. — Varied Affirmations. — The sealed Brow. — Wondrous Light. — Rest. — 
Exemption from painful Sensation. — The Way open through the Atonement. — 
Human Conception inadequate to the Formation of so perfect a Heaven in 
Thought 374 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

OCCUPATIONS OF THE BLEST. 

Eternal Life a Continuation of this. — Future physical Economy unknown. — Ac- 
tivity a Law of all Being. — Memory survives. — Study of Science. — Redeem- 
ing Love the grand Theme. — Praise. — Cultivation of Virtue. — Heaven a glad 
Surprise 397 

CHAPTER XXV. 

SOCIETY OF HEAVEN. 

Beautiful Elements in Nature. — Man communicative and receptive. — Jesus loved 
Society. — Soul made for it. — Degrees in Heaven. — Society of Angels, of 
Christ. — Love the prime Characteristic. — Perfect Appreciation found only in 
full Fruition i 423 

CHAPTER XXVI. 
ANGELS. 

Guardian Angels. — The Good and Evil. — Angel Organism. — Their Appearance 
to Patriarchs and Prophets. — Swift-winged. — Their appropriate Office. — Silent 
Ministration to Christians. — The Relation of the Earthly and the Heavenly. . . . 443 



CONTENTS. 



xi 



CHAPTER XXVII. 
RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS IN HEAVEN. 

Pags 

Complex Nature of Man. — Friendship a divine Institution. — Views of the Ancients 
concerning heavenly Recognition. — Modern Christians. — Scripture Facts. — 
Christian Anticipation. — New and constant Acquisition of Good . 403 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CHILDREN IN HEAVEN. 

Childhood and Innocence. — Power of infant Smiles. — The Convict. — Lord Byron. — 
Children an Attraction of Heaven. — Saved by Grace. — Theory of Augustine. — 
The early Reformers. — Zwingle. — Calvin. — Christ's Love to little Ones a Pledge. 477 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE BODY GLORIFIED. 

Rich Endowments of Immortality. — Conflicting State of Body and Spirit here. — 
The glorified Body powerful. — Glorious and honorable. — Incorruptible and 
spiritual. — Blessedness of the Combination. — Holiness and Perfection the End 
of true Self-Discipline 494 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SPIRIT GLORIFIED. 

The Attributes of God's Nature warrant Glorification to the Christian. — Results 
expected from the Union of Love and Power. — The Senses glorified. — The 
mental and moral elevated. — Mutual Interest of the Saints. — Glory waits for 
the Believer 513 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

PERPETUITY HEAVEN'S CROWNING GLORY. 

The Christian absorbed in '■'■Forever." — A Terror to the Guilty. — Permanence 
necessary to Enjoyment. — Earth transient. — Heaven permanent. — Motives to 
seek it. — Recognition of the Judge 533 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE EDUCATION OF THE SOUL. 

Home Preparations always cheerful. — Soul-Education the Work of Life. — Enjoy- 
ment proportioned to Cultivation. — The Sea Captain. — The ripe Christian. — The 
glorious Destiny of Believers. — Passing away not a gloomy Thought to 
them 546 



CHAPTEE I. 



UNIVERSAL BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY IN ALL TIME. 

Prevalent Ideas of the Future in the Early Ages. — Power of Persistent 
Self -Inquiry. — Confession of Lord Bolingbrolce. — Argument of Dick. 
— Homeric Views. — Poets of Antiquity. — Mountain Illustration. — 
Socrates. — Opinions of Philosophers of Different Nations. 

" "What shall our lot be, when we lay aside 
These cumbering vestments of mortality ? " 

is a question that has exercised the human mind, and agi- 
tated the human heart, from the earliest ages ; accompanied, 
indeed, with cheerless doubts whether the living, acting prin- 
ciple, the possession of which self-consciousness assures, be that 
which shall run parallel with interminable ages, or find its full 
end in the narrow round of a few fleeting years on earth. 
From the depths of anxious souls, down through all time, 
there has been the ceaseless echo of the same question, Are we 
immortal, or are we not ? For long periods man's history 
and destiny were like an ocean of unfathomable mysteries ; 
the waves of dark uncertainty ever sweeping onward, beating 
against the shores of ill-concealed oblivion. But mind, in its 
restlessness for something more, was never content to dwell 
upon the frontier of so shadowy a land, and therefore con- 
tinually sought to know if the realm before was real and 
actual, or unreal — an indefinable nothing — an evermore, or 

(13) 



14 



GREATNESS OF TEE PROBLEM. 



nevermore. No other matter of equal interest could absorb 
the attention of thinking men, none as relating to himself. 
As the Great First Cause is higher and nobler than all created 
intelligences, and his interests higher than all human interests, 
we might suppose that minds which he had created in his 
own image, and associated with organisms of such wonderful 
skill, would first of all be engaged in the contemplation of the 
character of their Creator, and the study of his will. But 
mortals would fain know themselves ; would lift the veil of 
mystery ; clear away the mists of doubt that surround their 
own future, and understand whither they are bound, what 
shall attend them on their way, and what awaits them at the 
close ; for an end is a natural idea of man. In connection 
with this idea there must of necessity be solicitude ; and what 
shall meet it? Observation cannot, experience cannot. Who, 
then, shall solve the enigma? From whence cometh light to 
illumine the dark recesses of mind ? It is not strange that the 
spirit's cravings are for this knowledge, and that, prior to the 
gospel's cheering revelations, a thousand ways of man's devis- 
ing had been opened, each promising to conduct the multitude 
through their labyrinthian journey, to a, perhaps, possible state 
in some very doubtful region, either within or without God's 
universe. The closing day and setting sun inspire no terror, 
and bring no dread, for the morrow's sun is an object of 
assured hope, and this assurance precludes doubt and dis- 
quiet. So man, as he approaches the evening of his days, the 
twilight of his existence, would fain be persuaded that a new 
era of gladness will open before him, and his soul exult in the 
continuation of that most desirable of all things, life. He 
cannot rest while all things depend upon uncertain ifs. Ever 
and anon he will be engaged in the profound soliloquy, ?? If I 
am destined to an eternal existence, if the powers of my mind 
are being disciplined for another state, how incalculably mo- 
mentous is time! What infinite importance attaches to the 
actions, pursuits, and affections of the present ! How desirable 



SELF-INQUIRY. 15 

/ 

that the energies of my being be so directed as to find that 
channel through which flow those streams of felicity which 
constitute the bliss of endless life ! 

" But if it be not thus, if it be the whole of life c to live? if 
it be that the whole of existence is circumscribed within the 
narrow circle of the few, fleeting years that pass between the 
first wail of infancy and the last agony of worn-out, expiring 
nature, then of what avail are the plans and purposes I am 
continually forming ? Why cherish affection ? It will soon die 
out. Why practise virtue, since there is no inducement? I 
am to myself an enigma, an inexplicable mystery, that I fail 
to find out. O, tell me, ye winged winds, and mighty waves 
of ocean tide, if in all your broad circuits ye have found the 
' land of Evermore? " 

Such are the queries which self will ever propose to self, in 
its unsettled, unenlightened state ; and the response that comes 
xip from the deep caverns of untaught Nature is not sufficient 
for the spirit's repose. There is something more needful ; yet 
Nature hath its teaching and its wise counsel, to which all may 
well give heed. 

Everything that hath a tendency to establish the doctrine 
of man's immortality will be invested with a thousand charms 
for the thoughtful and reflective mind, which regards with 
becoming interest its future destination. Its frequent con- 
sideration, its constant repetition, can never divest the idea of 
its power, for each for himself must personally prove its 
reality, to his own ineffable joy or sorrow. From whatever 
source the knowledge be derived, it will be taken into close 
embrace as of vital account, while the whole man grows 
stronger and better, under the firm conviction of an immortal 
destiny. 

In considering the doctrine of the soul's immortality, upon 
which hinges the "New Jerusalem, or the life to come," we 
shall first consider proofs from the light of Nature. Accord- 
ingly the present chapter is given to the contemplation of 



16 



CONFESSION OF BOLINGBROKE. 



the truth that there has been in all time, among all nations 
and people, the universal belief of a future, endless life. 

The idea of some " immeasurable, boundless time " has, at 
least, been an undertone in the human spirit from the begin- 
ning. Far back in the most ancient traditions of the pagan 
world, ere civilization and learning had shed their benign rays 
upon the moral darkness of man, the doctrine of immortality held 
sway over his mind. A celebrated philosopher of early time, 
in speaking of the happiness of those who departed this mortal 
life, represents the birth of such an opinion as dating at such 
an uncertain period in the past, that none knew when it began 
to be, or who was its author, therefore rendering it easy to 
believe it was handed down from earliest ages. "Before we 
have any light into antiquity," says Lord Bolingbroke, whose 
want of interest made it no willing confession, " these things 
began to be taught ; and when we begin to have any, we find 
it established, that it was strongly inculcated from time im- 
memorial, and as early as the most ancient and learned nations 
appear to us." The mysteries of another life were among the 
first things toward which Reason turned its piercing eye ; and 
though it had not yet gained the advantage of telescopic vision, 
it discovered, through the dim ether, glimpses of that which 
awakened the deepest interest and most anxious inquiry. How 
could it be otherwise ? for " the soul of the very first pagan 
was immortal, and consequently of infinite capacity in this 
respect, and it would therefore, by impulse of its own nature, 
breathe after the infinite." Dim and confused, indeed, were 
all notions of future life and endless existence, for it was the 
"gray twilight of the world's morning," when not the faint- 
est sign was visible to herald the approach of the sun of 
celestial Truth which should arise, with "healing in its wings," 
dispensing light and gladness upon the yearning, darkened 
souls of men. They struggled for victory ; they knew not 
what. With an instinctive belief in the unknown, the unseen, 



UNIVERSAL BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY. 17 



they yet panted for certainty. The fervor of their belief was 
visible in a thousand absurd manifestations, and the number- 
less superstitions woven into their web of thought show the 
imperfect character of their hopes ; but it illustrates the point at 
issue, that the desire for immortality is an innate principle in 
the human mind, thus affording strong presumptive proof of 
the truth of the doctrine. 

It stood like a pillar of light, around which were ever- 
widening circles, in which error and distortion appeared like 
giant sentinels, casting a broad shadow to obscure the light 
struggling from the centre ; but faint beams did struggle 
through, and had their legitimate effect upon the world around. 
It made the cloud upon the horizon seem still more dark, and 
the mists below still more heavy ; but it was an earnest of that 
true light which was to break forth to enlighten the world. As 
in the natural, so in the spiritual world, darkness precedes 
light, and evening is followed by morning. We, who rejoice 
in the full splendor of gospel light, must find it both profitable 
and interesting to discover in these remote ages of the past, in 
the dim light of antiquity, the appearance of that truth which 
succeeding centuries have unfolded, and divine revelation 
confirmed to us, beyond the possibility of a doubt. It is a 
mournful state of things, and widely to be deprecated, that so 
large a portion of the human race at the present day are sitting 
in the shadows of ignorance and barbarism ; but it is also inter- 
esting to notice how these same people believe in the life, the 
eternal life of the soul. Imagination, it is true, has been 
tasked to its utmost limit to produce satisfactory theories ; 
and unrestrained by the only proper guide, depraved passions 
and sensual natures have been the inspiration and starting- 
point, from whence have sprung forms of monstrous growth. 
They strangely intermingle the mortal and the immortal, peo- 
pling immensity with animals, men, and gods, according to 
their own confused and low notions of what constitutes the 
bliss of immortality. " Among the numerous and diversified 
2 



18 



ARGUMENT OF DICK. 



tribes that are scattered over the different regions of the earth," 
says Dick, " that agree in scarcely any other sentiment or article 
of religious belief, we here find the most perfect harmony in 
their recognition of a Supreme Intelligence, and in their belief 
that the soul survives the dissolution of its mortal frame. And, 
as Cicero long since observed, 'In every thing the consent of 
all nations is to be accounted the law of nature, and to resist 
it is to resist the voice of God.' For we can scarcely con- 
ceive, in consistency with the divine perfections, that an error, 
on a subject of so vast importance to mankind, should obtain 
the universal belief of all nations and ages, and that God 
himself would suffer a world of rational beings, throughout 
every generation, to be carried away by a delusion, and to be 
tantalized by a hope which has no foundation in nature, and 
which is contrary to the plan of his moral government. It is 
true, indeed, that many opinions which prevail among the 
uncivilized tribes of mankind, in regard to the condition of 
disembodied spirits, and the nature of future happiness, are 
very erroneous and imperfect ; but they all recognize this grand 
and important truth, that death is not the destruction of the 
rational soul, and that man is destined to an immortal exist- 
ence. Their erroneous conceptions in respect to the rewards 
and punishments of the future world may be easily accounted 
for, from a consideration of the imperfect conceptions they 
have formed of the divine Being, and of the principles of his 
moral government ; from their ignorance of those leading prin- 
ciples and moral laws by which the Almighty regulates the 
intelligent universe ; from the false ideas they have been led to 
entertain respecting the nature of substantial happiness ; from 
the cruel and absurd practices connected with the system of 
pagan superstition ; from the intellectual darkness which has 
brooded over the human race ever since the fall of man ; and 
from the universal prevalence of those depraved dispositions 
and affections which characterize the untutored tribes on whom 
the light of revelation has never shone." 



ARGUMENT FROM UNIVERSAL BELIEF. 19 



To whatever cause this universal belief of a future existence 
is to be traced, — whether to a universal tradition derived from 
the first parents of the human race ; to an innate sentiment 
originally impressed on the soul of man ; to a divine revela- 
tion, disseminated and handed down from one generation to 
another, or to the deductions of human reason, — it forms 
a strong presumption — a powerful argument — in favor of 
immortality. 

If it is to be traced back to the original progenitors of man- 
kind, it must be regarded as one of those truths which were 
recognized by man in a state of innocence, when his affections 
were pure, and his understanding fortified against delusion and 
error. If it be a sentiment which was originally impressed on 
the human soul by the hand of its Creator, we do violence to 
the law of our nature when we disregard its intimations, or 
attempt to resist the force of its evidence. If it ought to be 
considered as originally derived from revelation, then it is cor- 
roborative of the truth of the sacred records, in which "life 
and immortality " are clearly exhibited ; and if it be regarded 
as likewise one of the deductions of natural reason, we are left 
without excuse if we attempt to obscure its evidence, or to 
overlook the important consequences which it involves. 

As the consent of all nations has been generally considered 
as a powerful argument for the existence of a Deity, so the 
universal belief of mankind in the doctrine of a future state 
ought to be viewed as a strong presumption that it is founded 
upon truth. The human mind is so constituted, that, when 
left to its native, unbiassed energies, it necessarily infers the 
existence of a Supreme Intelligence, from the existence of 
matter, and the economy of the material world ; and from the 
nature of the human faculties, and the moral attributes of 
God, it is almost as infallibly led to conclude that a future 
existence is necessary, in order to gratify the boundless desires • 
of the human soul, and to vindicate the wisdom and rectitude 
of the moral Governor of the world. These two grand truths, 



20 



HOMERIC VIEWS. 



which constitute the foundation of all religion, and of every- 
thing that is interesting to man as an intelligent agent, are 
interwoven with the theological creed of all nations ; and in 
almost every instance where the one is called in question, the 
other is undermined or denied; so that the doctrine of the 
immortality of man may be considered as resting on the same 
foundation as the existence of the Great Supreme. 

Homer, the distinguished father of poetry, history, and 
philosophy, embodied the sentiments of the Greeks in his 
writings, giving descriptions and allusions which furnish con- 
vincing proof that the idea of the soul's immortality was a 
prevalent opinion in the time in which he wrote. Hints and 
passages are constantly occurring in which he supposes the 
separate existence of human souls ; and that which he makes 
Achilles to say, after the death of his beloved friend, Patro- 
clus, indicates the state of his own mind with reference to the 
subject. 

" 'Tis true, 'tis certain ; man, though dead, retains 
Part of himself: th' immortal mind remains; 
The form subsists without the body's aid, 
Aerial semblance, and an empty shade." 

His account of the descent of Ulysses into hell, and his 
description of Minos in the shades below, distributing justice 
to the dead assembled in troops around his tribunal, and pro- 
nouncing irrevocable judgments which decide their everlasting 
fate, demonstrate the entertainment of the belief that virtues 
are rewarded, and crimes punished, in another state of exist- 
ence. 

Others of the ancient poets have also intimations to the same 
effect, showing that the nations to whom their writings were 
addressed were interested in the same thought. The same 
opinions are involved in the poems of Ovid and Virgil. " Their 
notions of future punishment are set forth in the descriptions 
they give of Ixion, who was fastened to a wheel and whirled 
about continually with a swift and rapid motion ; of Tantalus, 



POETS OF ANTIQUITY. 



21 



who, for the loathsome banquet he made for the gods, was 
set in water up to the chin, with apples hanging to his very 
lips, yet had no power either to stoop to the one to quench his 
raging thirst, or to reach to the other to satisfy his craving 
appetite." Various and similar allusions shadow forth the 
same great truth. Wise philosophers of the past, whose 
names have come down through the long lapse of ages, with 
whom is associated much that is profound, have added strength 
to the testimony. 

They have sayings which are as gems from the mine of 
truth ; that are as true to-day as when, with earnest, far-reach- 
ing thought, they brought them up from the realms of doubt 
and darkness, to be a light to inquiring minds forever after. 
They were scintillations of light whose brightness will never 
be obscured. 

Looking within, to the mysteries of the inner world of life, 
they could but reason themselves into a higher, diviner state 
of existence. Thus in Phocylides are sentences like the 
following : "Immortal souls, free from old age, live forever." 
"All the dead are equal, but God governs souls." " We hope 
to see the remains of the dead come out of the earth into light, 
after which they will be gods ; for incorruptible souls remain 
in the dead. The spirit is the image of God, given to mortals." 
This is indeed strangely-sounding phraseology to disciples of a 
more perfect day and more perfect philosophy ; but it is one 
thing to see the human mind struggling to free itself from 
chains, and another to see those chains effectually removed by 
the Great Deliverer. It is one thing to stand on the high 
point of present advantage, and witness the mighty conquests 
which truth has made under the auspicious reign of the Most 
High, and quite another thing to take our position with those 
men, who stand, as it were, unconsciously burnishing weapons 
for an uncertain warfare. 

Suppose one of the loftiest mountains of our globe, tower- 
ing high above the clouds, had never been visited. Standing 



22 



MOUNTAIN ILLUSTRATION. 



in its solitary grandeur, it is an object of interest to all ; but 
its gigantic height and difficulty of access render the idea of 
scaling its summit a mattter of improbability. 

And suppose a throng of eager adventurers, from various 
motives of interest and pleasure, to be animated with a desire 
to accomplish the task, and take within the range of their own 
vision the broad sweep that circleth round this silent monitor 
of Nature. The pathway is unknown. They have no certain 
knowledge to guide them. They have never trod these fast- 
nesses, to tell what characterizes them ; and of course their 
views, and consequently their paths, would diverge from 
the be£innin£. While one might see that which would invite 
him in a certain direction, another would consider the opposite 
path far more alluring. Others still would observe new indi- 
cations, and there gain their own adherents, and thus would 
separate groups pursue their own way, yet all bent upon the 
same object — all seeking the same point. A few, perhaps, 
sink exhausted by the way, but the majority reach the sum- 
mit; some, it is true, by a more circuitous path than was 
needful ; but, having no established precedent, their own con- 
victions became the guiding-star of action, and some allowance 
is always necessary for the uncertain rays of mere human 
conviction. 

Something like this was the doctrine of immortality in the 
early ages. It stood in its own solemn grandeur and sublimity, 
far above all other truths relating to the history of man, and 
mankind would fain sound its depths and scale its heights. It 
pierced the skies, and they longed to know what was visible 
from such a point ; if, indeed, "sweet fields" were discovered 
to lie beyond, exceeding all that was ever presented to the 
range of ordinary vision. They yearned to possess the true 
knowledge. They sought it — earnestly pursued it ; by differ- 
ent ways, it is true, and with different degrees of success. The 
way was not clearly opened, for the "Star in the East" had 
not yet appeared ; the boundary line between the seen and the 



ARGUMENT OF SOCRATES. 



23 



unseen had not been recrossed to tell what was upon the other 
side. It was a devious way, and they faltered in it ; but it is 
interesting to follow them and catch their words as they pro- 
ceeded, for it leadeth on and up to the true goal. 

Socrates, an Athenian philosopher, the most celebrated of 
all antiquity, whose name has become almost as familiar as 
that of a household friend, was deeply interested in this sub- 
ject. Four hundred years before Christ he gathered about 
him a band of devoted disciples, and imparted unto them his 
own superior wisdom — superior for the time in which he 
lived. His extraordinary mind and genius excited the envy 
and malice of some, while it elicited the warmest admiration 
of many. In the groves of Academus, the Lyceum, and on 
the banks of the Uissus, he was followed by those who lis- 
tened with delight as he discoursed of immortal things, and 
rehearsed the probability of ages " which none but God doth 
number," and of truth which flowed like a river " fast by the 
oracle of God." Mingling exhortation with his teaching, he 
besought them to the consideration of that which, if true, was 
of infinite moment — of the deepest personal interest — worthy 
of the most profound study and the most faithful investigation. 
Could it be established, it might be theirs to be acquainted with 
mysteries of bliss, "high on the hills of immortality," in the 
future which awaited them. "Whether this be really so," said 
he, "the Divinity alone knows ; but I cannot find it in me to 
disbelieve so probable and desirable a truth." It was a favorite 
theory of this philosopher that things are produced by contra- 
ries; and in conversation with Cebes, a pupil of his, the latter 
is made to ask this question : — 

"Do you now tell me likewise in regard to life and death. 
Do you not say that death is the contrary of life ? " 

" I say so." 

" And that they are produced from each other ? " 
"Yes." 

"What, then, is that which is produced from life?" 



24 ARGUMENT OF SOCBATES. 



"Death," said Cebes. 

M And that which is produced from death? " 
* I must allow," said Cebes, "to be life." 
"Then, Cebes, from the dead are living things and living 
men produced ? " 

" It seems so," he replied. 

" Therefore," said he, " our souls exist in Orcus, after death." 
" I think so." 

"Of their stages of generation, then, is not one, at least, 
obviously distinct ? For dying is surely an intelligible idea — 
is it not?" 

" Certainly it is," said he. 

"How, then," he continued, "shall we do? Shall we not 
oppose in turn to this the contrary process of generation, but 
shall Nature fail in this ? Or must we allow some process of 
generation contrary to dying ? " 

"By all means." 

"What is it, then?" 

" Eeviving." 

" Therefore," said he, "if reviving is granted, this should be 
the process of generation from the dead to the living, viz., 
reviving ? " 

"Certainly." 

" We allow then in this way that the living are produced 
from the dead, no less than the dead from the living ; but, 
such being the case, it appeared to me to furnish adequate proof 
that the souls of the deceased exist somewhere, from whence 
they return again into life." 

"Such, Socrates, appears to me to be the necessary result 
from what has been admitted." 

"Observe, now, Cebes, that we have not, in my judgment, 
made these admissions without reason ; for if those things which 
are produced were not continually to alternate with each other 
as if revolving in a circle, but the generation were direct from 
the one (contrary) merely to its opposite, nor should take a. 



ARGUMENT OF SOCRATES. 



25 



circuit and come round again to the first, are you aware that 
all things at last should assume the same figure, submit to the 
same affection, and cease to be produced at all ? " 
" How say you this ? " 

" There is no difficulty in comprehending what I say ; but if, 
for instance, falling asleep be granted, and that awaking, which 
is produced from sleeping, were not to alternate with it, be 
assured that all things coming to an end would render the 
fable of Endymion a mere jest, and he no longer would be 
considered of importance, because all things else would be 
influenced by an affection such as he was, by sleep ; further, 
if all things were confounded together, and never divided 
asunder, the theory of Anaxagoras would soon be realized — 
all would be chaos. 

"Thus, my dear Cebes, if all things which had partaken of 
life should die, and when dead should remain in the same state 
of death, and not revive again, would there not be an unavoid- 
able necessity that everything should perish at last, and nothing 
revive ? 

" For if * living things were produced from anything else 
than what had died, and those living things should die, what 
remedy would there be against all things being finally destroyed 
by death?" 

"None whatever, Socrates, in my mind," answered Cebes; 
" but to me you seem to speak the clearest truth." 

"Such," said he, " Cebes, the case unquestionably seems to 
me, and that we do not acknowledge these things under the 
influence of delusion ; but there is in reality a reviving and pro- 
ducing of the living from the dead, a surviving of the souls of 
the deceased, and happiness for the good, but misery for the 
evil amongst them." 

Upon another occasion, when Simmias, another disciple, was 
engaged with Cebes in the contemplation of the same subject, 
the question was proposed, whether two "species of existences 
might not be supposed," the one visible and the other invisi- 



26 



ARGUMENT OF SOCRATES. 



ble ; the latter always the same, but the former never at any 
time so. 

" Come, now," said the philosopher, w is anything else the 
case than that one part of us consists of body, and the other 
of soul?" 

"Nothing else," was the reply. 

"To which of the two, then, shall we say that the body 
bears the greater resemblance, and is the more closely allied?" 

" To the visible," said Cebes, "as must be plain to every one." 

" But what of the soul ? Is it visible or invisible ? " 

"It is not visible to mankind, at least, Socrates," was the 
answer. 

"But we were speaking surely of what is visible, and what 
is not so, according to the nature of man. Or do you think it 
was with a view to any other?" 

" It was according to the nature of man." 

"What, then, do we assert of the soul? That it is visible, 
or invisible ? " 

"Invisible." 

" Is it then immaterial ? " 
" Yes." 

"Does the soul, therefore, bear a greater resemblance to 
the immaterial than the body, but the latter resemble more 
the visible?" 

"It is imperatively so, Socrates," was the pupil's response. 

"Did we not likewise lay this down a short time since, that 
when the soul makes use of the body to investigate anything, 
either by the sight, hearing, or any other sense, — for to con- 
sider any object through means of the senses is the same as 
through means of the body, — - it is then indeed forced by the 
body in the direction of those things which are forever subject 
to change, upon which it becomes distracted and confused, and 
reels as if inebriated, because it is involved in matters of this 
kind?" 

"It is certainly so." 



ARGUMENT OF SOCRATES, 



27 



"But when," he continued, "it considers any subject by 
itself, does it proceed in the direction of what is pure, ever- 
lasting, immortal, and immutable? and, as if closely allied to 
this, does it abide with it ever, when it is left to itself, and is 
empowered to do so ? and is it relieved of its distraction ? and, 
as being- placed in connection with things like itself, is it always 
identical and unchangeable with regard to them ? And is this 
condition of the soul called wisdom?'*' 

"You speak, Socrates," said he, "with the utmost fairness 
and truth." 

"To which species of the two, then, both from what was 
said before and that just now, does the soul appear to be more 
like and the more closely allied ? " 

"Every one, Socrates," replied Cebes, "even the dullest, 
would, in my mind, allow, from this mode of investigation, 
that the soul, in every respect, bears a greater resemblance to 
that which is always the same than to that which is not." 

"But what of the body?" 

" It more resembles the latter." 

"But view it, also, in this light, that, when the soul and 
body are together, nature enjoins submission and obedience on 
the one, and on the other authority and command. In this 
light, again, which of the two seems to you to resemble the 
divine, and which the human? Does it not appear to you that 
the divine is naturally adapted to govern and guide, but the 
human to be governed and to serve ? " 

"So it seems." 

"Which, then, does the soul resemble?" 

"It is evident, Socrates, that the soul resembles the divine, 
but the body the human." 

"Observe, then, Cebes, if such be our conclusion from all 
that has been said, that the soul bears the stronger resemblance 
to that which is divine, immortal, intelligent, uniform, indisso- 
luble, always the same, and identical with itself ; but that the 
body resembles more that which is human, mortal, unintelligent, 



28 BELIEF OF GREEK PHILOSOPHERS. 



multiform, soluble, and at no time identical with itself. Can 
we object to this conclusion, my dear Cebes, that it is not 
fairly drawn ? " 

"We cannot, Socrates." 

"What then? When these things are so, is it not natural 
for the body to be speedily dispersed, and for the soul to be 
altogether indissoluble, or very near it ? Is this soul of ours, — 
being such in itself and in its nature, — on its separation from 
the body, likely to be dissipated and destroyed? Far from it, 
my dear Simmias and Cebes. It is far more likely to stand 
thus : that it will go hence to that which resembles itself, the 
invisible, divine, immortal, and wise." 

Thus reasoned the mighty intellect of this man, until the 
" magnificence of eternity " opened before him, dimly, indeed, 
but yet in such a manner that, in view of his own dissolution, 
he could liken himself unto the swan, whose notes of song were 
always the sweetest in the moment of death. " So cheerfully," 
said he, " do I depart this life, hoping for the immortal -— the 
imperishable." 

So also would we consider the opinions of other philoso- 
phers, and the views of different nations, in order to confirm 
the idea of the universal belief of this truth. 

Plato and Aristotle taught the same, though less clearly, 
being inclined to the pre-existence of souls, in order to recon- 
cile things so as to make them admissible to their own minds. 
"Every soul," says the former, "is immortal. That which is 
always in motion is from eternity ; but that which is moved by 
another must have an end." 

Strabo also recognizes the opinions of Plato, and at the same 
time acquaints us with his own. When speaking of the Indian 
Brachmans, he affirms that they, as this philosopher, compose 
fables of the immortality of the soul, and of judgments in the 
infernal shades ; yet, to me, he says, it seems not to be doubted 
but the belief of the eternal existence of man's rational soul is 
fully as ancient as mankind itself. 



OPINION OF CYBUS. 



29 



"For, methinks, the excellency of its own faculties and 
operations above all material agents should be alone sufficient 
to afford, to every contemplative man, certain glimpses of both 
the divine original, and immortality thereof ; and the desire of 
posthumous glory, — an affection congenial and natural to all 
noble minds, — together with a secret fear of future unhappi- 
ness, common to all, to give pregnant hints of its endless 
existence after death." 

Cyrus, king of Persia, has uttered his convictions in this 
social sort of way: "No, my dear children ; lean never be 
persuaded that the soul lives no longer than it dwells in this 
mortal body, and that it dies on separation ; for I see that the 
soul communicates vigor and motion to mortal bodies during 
its continuance in them. Neither can I be persuaded that the 
soul is divested of intelligence on its separation from this gross, 
senseless body ; but it is probable that, when the soul is sep- 
arated, it becomes perfect and entire, and is then more intel- 
ligent." 

Passing over a list of illustrious men, whose views coincide, 
in all important particulars, with those already given, we notice 
those of Athanasius, who reasons that " the soul of man is 
intellectual, incorporeal, impassible, immortal substance. The 
soul moves the body, but is itself moved by nothing else ; it 
follows that it must have a principle of motion within itself, 
and therefore that it will continue to live and to move of itself 
after the death and corruption of the body. For the soul cannot 
die, but it is the body that dies, by reason of the soul's departure 
from it. But if the soul were moved by the body, it would 
follow that, when the body which moves it is separated from 
it, it must die. 

" But if the soul moves the body, it must much more move 
itself ; and if it have a principle of motion within itself, it must 
necessarily live after the death of the body : for the motion of 
the soul is nothing but the life of the soul. 

"Because the soul is immortal, it is naturally capable of un- 



30 



VIEWS OF CHURCH FATHERS. 



derstanding and reasoning about those things which are eternal 
and immortal. For as the body, because it is mortal, has its 
senses fitted to perceive fading, mortal things, so the soul, 
which contemplates and reasons about immortal things, must 
necessarily be itself immortal, and live forever. For those 
notions and speculations it has concerning immortality never 
forsake it, but, still continuing in it, are, as it were, an earnest 
and foretaste of its future eternity. And from hence it comes 
to pass that it has naturally, and from itself, an apprehension 
and knowledge of God, without receiving it by the information 
and instruction of any one else." 

Cyprian, Xren&us, Augustine, and all the venerable fathers 
of antiquity, concurred in the same doctrine. They contributed 
drops, at least, toward swelling the stream that was flowing 
on to the ocean of eternal truth. They augmented the force 
of that resistless current that was sweeping on, even beyond 
the shores of time, losing itself in the untold vastness of eter- 
nity's wide sea. Through their influence the channel became 
broader and deeper, and the preparation for richer waves of 
blessing more and more perfect. The freight of living souls 
borne upon its bosom assumed an importance in proportion to 
the significance given to that mysterious life-principle, "Ever- 
lasting." They heard the deep-toned voices of Nature, and 
acknowledged their harmony. Air, earth, sky, and sea, all 
spoke the same language. The surging waves of their own 
consciousness gave the same response, and constrained them to 
cry, "Oman, thou art immortal!" and to unite, in some 
measure, in the ejaculation of Empedocles, "Farewell, all 
earthly allies. I am henceforth no mortal being, but an immor- 
tal angel, ascending up into divinity, and reflecting upon that 
likeness of it which I find in myself." 

Turning from these solitary but influential representatives 
to the history of nations, and their general belief, we find the 
Egyptians very early contending for the truth of this doctrine. 
It is true they made the disembodied, indissoluble spirit a 



HINDOO AND JEWISH BELIEF. 



31 



thine to animate the bodies of various inferior orders of crea- 
tion. The cycles of eternity were to witness perpetual changes 
in its state and condition, but no decay. On, and still on, it 
was to live through an inconceivable length of time. Each 
change was a promotion to a higher degree of blessedness, 
though the character of the blessedness took its coloring from 
their own imagination. 

Similar to this is the Hindoo faith, with its two great sys- 
tems — the Dwita and the Adicita, characterized by the dis- 
tinction of two eternal existences — spirit and matter, and that 
of one only, the spirit. The philosophers of the former believe 
that the soul is but a portion of the divine Spirit united to a 
portion of matter, and that even matter is an emanation from 
this same Deity. 

Under this theory, the existence of the soul, in connection 
with a material body, is looked upon as a misfortune, and 
deliverance from this connection the highest bliss. Then- 
idea of supreme felicity is to be absorbed into Deity ; to live 
age after age, while successive transmigrations fit them for a 
higher position in the scale of being, until they so nearly resem- 
ble the sacred character of the Brahma of then- devotion, as to 
be one with him. 

What saith the Jewish people ? " That man's body was 
framed by the great Artificer, who, taking earth, fashioned it 
into a human shape. But the soul was made of no created 
matter, but proceeded from the Father and Governor of all. 
For as to what he says, ? He breathed,' &c, nothing else can 
be meant by it but a divine spirit proceeding and coming from 
his blessed and spiritual nature, sent into our bodies as into a 
colony, for the advantage of mankind, who, although as to their 
visible part they are mortal, yet as to their invisible part are 
immortal." 

The Chinese, Japanese, and Mohammedans were believers 
in this doctrine, and it was a distinguishing point in the system 
of religious belief which characterized the Druids, being to 



32 



FAITH OF THE INDIANS. 



tliem an incentive to virtuous life, and that which corrected and 
shaped their views of death. 

The inhabitants of the Mariana Islands, too, owning no God, 
having no conceptions of an infinite cause, seemingly without 
the least idea of their relation of the spiritual, so blind as to have 
neither temple nor altar, sacrifice nor priest, yet believed their 
souls immortal, and that there is a paradise and its opposite. 

"The idea of immortality" among the Mexican Indians, 
says Schoolcraft, " is thoroughly dwelt upon. It is not spoken 
of as a supposition or a mere belief not fixed. It is regarded 
as an actuality, as something known and approved by the 
judgment of the nation. During the long period of my resi- 
dence and travels in the Indian country, I never knew or heard 
of an individual who did not believe in it, and the appearance 
of the body in a future state. No small part of their entire 
mythology, and the belief that sustains man in his vicissitudes, 
arise from the anticipation of enjoyment in a future life after 
the soul has left the body." 

Thus far doth human testimony strengthen the belief that 

" life forever runs its endless race, 
And, like a line, death but divides the space — 
A stop which can but for a moment last, 
A point between the present and the past." 

It is a belief that ever has been, and ever must be, a power in 
the soul. The perfection of that power is reserved for another 
era than that we are now considering. There is a difference 
between mythology and theology, of course. One may be 
conceived in the highest human wisdom, but the other is born 
of eternal truth, and must stand. The former is like the 
faint tints that precede the morning dawn ; the other like the 
clearest beams of the midday sun. To assert the necessity of 
this order of things in the natural world is but to reiterate a 
fact the commonest minds fail not to receive. We attempt 
not to argue the same for the moral and spiritual world, but 
only remark that observation shows it to be thus. 



SCEPTICS FEW AND FOOLISH. 



33 



We do not expect people to see as clearly at the dawn of 
day as at noontide. We expect indistinctness along the whole 
line of vision in the former case. An object may appear in 
the distance of uncertain character ; but suppose the eyes of 
many beholding it until all unite in the same conclusion 
respecting it, should we not rationally accept that conclusion? 
Would it not be considered folly to dissent when the thing is 
confirmed by so many ? Find we not a parallel in this doctrine 
of immortality ? The voice of the past, of all antiquity, con- 
senteth unto it. 

We say not that there have never been those who have 
denied this fundamental truth. There have been those who 
have called, and professed to believe, "death an eternal sleep ;" 
who affirmed that the soul lieth down with the body in everlast- 
ing unconsciousness 5 but so small is the number of these com- 
pared with the mass of mankind, and so unsettled their faith 
notwithstanding their pretensions, it counts but little against 
the force of the argument, that the doctrine of immortality has 
been a universal belief. 

"If a number of fools," says a writer already quoted, "should 
think fit to put out their own eyes, to prevent them from feel- 
ing the effects of light, as Democritus, the ancient philosopher, 
is said to have done, it would form no argument to prove 
that all the rest of the world is blind. And, if a few sceptics 
and profligates endeavor to blind the eyes of their understand- 
ing by sophistry and licentiousness, it cannot prevent the light 
of reason, which unveils the realities of a future world, from 
shining on the rest of mankind, nor constitute the slightest 
argument to prove the fallacy of the doctrine they deny." 
3 



34 



YEARNINGS OF CHILDHOOD. 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE DESIRE OF CONTINUOUS LITE AN INHERENT PRINCIPLE 

OF MIND. 

Yearnings of Childhood. — The BouVs TJiir stings. — Fear of Socrates. — 
Cicero's Instructions to his Pupils. — Dying Testimony of Franklin. — Of 
Byron. — ■ Universal Action reveals Desire. — Perpetual Longings. — 
Inferences. 

" Whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
This longing after immortality ? 
Whence this secret dread and inward horror 
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us : 
'Tis Heaven itself that points out a hereafter, 
And intimates eternity to man." 

Thus mused the mind of Cato long ages since — a mind not 
yet released from the thraldom of superstition, but surrounded, 
as he himself acknowledges, with " shadows, clouds, and dark- 
ness," weary, and tortured with conjecture. Wherefore, then, 
this depth of reasoning but from intuitions of that divine 
something which "stirs within," reaching after the immortal, 
and satisfied with nothing but the Infinite? As he looked 
forward, in his efforts to grasp the eternity of thought, and 
comprehend the endlessness of being, an "unbounded pros- 
pect " opened before him, and he exclaimed, — 

" Thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
Through what variety of untried heing, 
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ? 
When? Where?" 

Multitudes had asked the same questions before him, and 
manifested the same eager spirit of inquiry. They had been 



YEARNINGS OF CHILDHOOD. 



35 



echoed and re-echoed until sounds had been- started whose 
vibrations were constantly increasing in power — sounds which, 
according to the theory of some, were to go on eternally in 
their accumulated strength; but whether this be so or not, 
they were certainly never to cease until the human soul had 
found a sure and permanent basis upon which to rest its hopes, 
and some appropriate aliment to feed its desires. From whence 
came this anxiety, save by the promptings of the deathless 
something within which ever asserts its claims to immortality, 
its alliance, and therefore its co-existence, with the Infinite? 

But it is not only those who have reached the full maturity 
of their powers ; who have drank large draughts from the cup 
of pleasure, and found it mingled with gall ; who have exulted 
in the promises of hope, and sorrowed in their non-fulfilment ; 
who have revelled in the sunshine of existence, and anon hid 
themselves from the gathering cloud ; — it is not only these 
who have experienced all that earth had for them, and, con- 
scious of their speedy emancipation from their prison-house of 
clay, look forward with solicitude to what yet cometh. We 
have seen the child of few years, whose youthful cheek was 
oft traced with tears because she was " so lonely " on earth — 
and that, too, when hope is to life what the dancing sunbeam 
is to the glittering spray on a summer's morning — one shielded 
from every sorrow, so tenderly cherished as never to feel the 
bitterness of neglect, and yet pining for something above and 
beyond all to satisfy the yearnings of the soul. What is this 
but a desire inwoven into the very constitution of spiritual life 
to drink at a never-failing, ever-satisfying fountain, whose waters 
have power to quench the thirst that is quenchless elsewhere ? 

" The human soul," says Leighton, " thirsts after a good 
invisible, immaterial, and immortal, to the enjoyment whereof 
the ministry of a body is so far from being absolutely necessary, 
that it feels itself shut up and confined by that to which it is 
now united as by a partition wall, and groans under the 
pressure of it. Most nations have adopted these sentiments, 



36 



THE SOUL'S THIBSTINOS. 



though even unable to confirm them with any argument of 
irresistible force. Yet they felt something within them that 
corresponded with this doctrine, and looked upon it as most 
beautiful and worthy of credit." "Nobody shall drive me from 
the immortality of the soul," says Atticus, in Cicero; and the 
words of the world-renowned philosopher, Seneca, are expres- 
sive of peculiar pleasure relative to views of the soul's eternity 
and their actual belief. When his sun began to decline, and 
the remains of a broken constitution only appeared, "I re- 
signed myself," said he, "to so glorious a hope as that of 
removing into the immensity of time, and into the possession 
of endless ages." 

It is unquestionably true that there is in man a desire for 
immortality. None can subdue it ; not even the despairing 
wretch who flies to death for succor, and embraces the hope 
of annihilation as his only refuge. At the very instant when 
he dreads an immortality which he fears will be miserable, and 
withdraws himself from a life which he finds so, he wishes 
there were no such reason for choosing death, and preferring 
the utter extinction of his being ; which is a manifest argu- 
ment that he hath not yet put off the general desire for 
immortality. An unconscious betrayal is witnessed in even 
the professed enemies to the doctrine. Those who have most 
strenuously sought to put far away all thought and desire for 
these things, who have taken the idea of annihilation to their 
closest embrace, have, nevertheless, considered it a very cheer- 
less thing to die when the body dies, — at best, but a "leap in 
the dark." The most daring infidels have been led to pay 
their involuntary tribute to the superiority of immortal hopes 
over their own delusions ; for they are continually told of the 
measureless worth of such hopes, by convictions they cannot 
stifle, a voice they cannot hush. Nor are they uninfluenced, 
as we may rationally conclude, by desires that the doubtful 
may indeed be true. And why can it be subdued? It is 
coeval with mind, with the principle of life itself. 



FEAR OF SOCRATES. 



37 



A modem professor, in speaking of this desire, calls it 
" not so much a wish for immortality as a fear of death ; " an 
unwillingness to leave cherished purposes unaccomplished, the 
plans of life unwrought. He would make it an outgrowth of 
Christianity ; a power with those whose minds are nurtured, 
and whose lives are guided, under the influence of these well- 
founded hopes ; and argues that antecedent to the advent of 
Him who opened "the new and living way," there was no 
controlling desire to this end. 

Of what significance is this language in the mouth of the 
disciple of Socrates ? " We are afraid lest, on the departure 
of the soul from the body, it should no longer exist, but 
should perish and be annihilated upon the same day on which 
a man dies ; and, being dispersed immediately on its separa- 
tion and egress from the body, like a breath or smoke, it 
should vanish, and have no further being; otherwise, if it 
existed anywhere independent, concentred within itself, and 
removed from the sphere of evil, great indeed and cheering 
should be the hope that what you say is true." Does not this 
involve the desire as well as hope? What meaneth this 
ancient soliloquy? 

" O blessed day, when I shall arrive at the divine assembly 
of souls, when I shall leave this vile crowd and earth behind ! 
for there shall I meet not only those noble Eomans whom I 
just now mentioned, but also my Cato, than whom a more 
worthy and pious man the world has not known." These 
declarations of Scipio, "Do you think that I should ever have 
undergone so many labors, day and night, in the senate and the 
field, if my glory were to terminate with my life ? Would it not 
have been much better to have spent my days, without labor 
or contention, in indolence and tranquillity? But my soul 
lifting herself up, I know not how, always looking forward to 
posterity, as if, when she shall have departed from the body, 
she will then at length be but beginning to live. But unless 
the case be, that our souls are destined to immortality, not that 



38 



CICERO'S CONFIDENCE. 



of any person, however excellent, would thus exert itself for 
the sake of immortal glory. Let our minds be so disposed as 
to regard the day of our death as a happy one to ourselves, 
dreadful as it is to others. Let us rather regard death as a 
port of safety, to which we are bound ; at which we should 
wish to arrive, with all the sail we can make." And these 
further admonitions of Cicero : "Be sure, and reckon that it is 
not you who are mortal, but only your body ; for it is not the 
form and figure that appear, which constitute a man what he 
is, but it is the mind which is the man ; know, then, that thou 
art a god, at least, if that be a god which lives and has 
sense ; which remembers, and takes care of things to come ; 
which rules, commands, and moves the body over which it is 
set, as the great God moves, commands, and rules the world. 
If I mistake in thinking the soul of man to be immortal, I mis- 
take with delight ; nor would I have this mistake, with which I 
am pleased, torn from me as long as I live." 

These men, and others of like spirit, stood, in a great meas- 
ure, the representatives of the people, embodying in their 
writings, which they have transmitted, the opinions and senti- 
ments of the common mass of mind around them ; and was 
the expression of this desire feeble and infrequent ? 

What moved the hand of Cleombrotus, the philosopher of 
Ambracia, to sever the silken cord that bound him to life, 
when that life was altogether pleasant, but the hope that there 
was still a better life beyond, and his desire to experience what 
it had to offer ? 

What induced Socrates to take, so calmly, the cup of poison 
from the hand of his Athenian foes, when he knew that under 
its influence he should lie down with no power to arise again, 
but his confidence in the future ? 

Why does the bereaved heart of the untaught heathen look 
to the funeral pile of the loved as the grave of sorrow, and the 
j)oint from whence a more desirable existence begins ? 

Is it not because the immortal finds a response in Nature ? 



DYING TESTIMONY OF FRANKLIN. 



39 



Our own Franklin, as he drew near the close of life, rea- 
soned thus with a friend : " Death is as necessary to the consti- 
tution as sleep ; we shall rise refreshed in the morning. The 
course of nature must soon put a period to my present mode 
of existence. This I shall submit to with the less regret, as, 
having seen, during a long life, a good deal of this world, I 
feel a growing curiosity to become acquainted with some other, 
and can cheerfully, with filial confidence, resign my spirit to 
the conduct of that great and good Parent of mankind who 
created it, and who has so graciously protected and preserved 
me from my birth to the present hour." 

There is, indeed, a coolness about this that accords better 
with the ancients, that is not exactly becoming to a Christian 
philosopher ; but it shows how, as steel to the magnet, the 
soul turns toward and clings to the prospect of a future. 

Byron, he who sat "on the loftiest top of Fame's dread 
mountain," had peculiar delight in having recourse to the starry 
shades of night ; to the " dim and solitary loveliness of Nature," 
where ten thousand voices whispered of resurrection and new 
existence. There he made his heroes learn the language of 
another world. Whether he became sufficiently familiar with 
the dialect himself to appropriate the comforts derived there- 
from to his own soul, we cannot tell. The poet makes him 
die "of wretchedness ," after having spent a life in the vain, 
attempt 

" To fill the embrace of all Eternity 
With the unsubstantial shade of Time." 

But it is certain that on his death-bed his mind was much 
occupied with considerations respecting his future destiny, and 
the claims of Christianity, the principles of which challenged 
his admiration, and elicited his warmest praise. Among his 
last words were these : " The thought of living eternally, of 
again reviving, is a great pleasure." 

In proportion as the soul rises to higher degrees of perfec- 
tion in virtue and moral excellence, according to the cultiva- 



40 UNIVERSAL ACTION REVEALS DESIRE. 



tion and expansion of intellect, are the strength and ardor of 
this desire. Under the influence of more far-reaching thought, 
the mind conceives and grasps what otherwise seems dim and 
unsatisfactory. Character becomes shaped by a more perfect 
model, and actions based on more liberal principles, while 
aims and purposes are broader and more benevolent. Schemes 
for the improvement of never-decaying mind become invested 
with the deepest interest, and the elevation and happiness of 
future generations an absorbing idea. Effort in this direction 
has associated with it a large reward. The seed sown will 
yield an eternal harvest ; the edifice reared will exhibit its 
beautiful proportions through a limitless period. 

That this desire is both common and natural " appears from 
a variety of actions, which can scarcely be accounted for on 
any other principle, and which prove that the mind feels con- 
scious of its immortal destiny. Why, otherwise, should men 
be anxious about their reputation, and solicitous to secure their 
names from oblivion, and to perpetuate their fame, after they 
have descended into the grave? To accomplish such objects, 
and to gratify such desires, poets, orators, and historians 
have been flattered and rewarded to celebrate their actions ; 
monuments of marble and of brass have been erected to repre- 
sent their persons, and inscriptions engraved in the solid rock, 
to convey to future generations a record of the exploits they 
had achieved. Lofty columns, triumphal arches, towering 
pyramids, magnificent temples, palaces, and mausoleums have 
been reared to eternize their fame, and to make them live, as 
it were, in the eyes of their successors, through all the future 
ages of time. But if the soul be destined to destruction at 
the hour of death, why should man be anxious about what shall 
happen or what shall not happen hereafter, when he is reduced 
to a mere nonentity, and banished forever from the universe 
of God? He can have no interest in any events that may 
befall the living world when he is cancelled from the face of 
creation, and when the spark of intelligence he possessed is 
quenched in everlasting night." 



DFSIBE OF CONTINUOUS LIFE. 



41 



Did man suppose the grave to be the utmost verge of being, 
that when he shall lie down to pillow his head upon the cold 
earth, not only the body will return to its kindred dust, but 
the spark of consciousness will die out forever, — did he really 
believe this, would he be content to live and suffer on through 
threescore years and ten so willingly? — here, where disap- 
pointment is coupled with every expectation, deception with 
every alluring promise of hope, sorrow with every joy, and 
seasons of pain alternate with brief periods of rest. 

When the spirit is sinking under the weight of burdens 
almost insupportable, and the heart writhing under the influence 
of necessitous grief, is it not reasonable to suppose that he 
would wish to escape such unmeaning discipline, and let the 
waves of oblivion wash out every trace of his being, rather 
than live on, a crushed and broken thing, with no hope of 
being lifted up? 

Were it his unhesitating belief, it would be inconsistent to 
do otherwise. But what do we find? — the great majority of 
mankind clinging with a tenacious grasp to the last remnant of 
mortal existence ; notwithstanding its multiplied ills, bearing 
them with the hope of a happy exemption from sorrow in a better 
life ; animated through all by the desire of reaching a goodly 
shore in regions to which they are tending. 

This desire of continuous life is the foundation of all desire. 
All the plans we form are made with reference to it. We do 
not desire annihilation. Everything within and about us is 
contrary to it ; it is revolting, chilling, antagonistic to the very 
laws and principles of our being. 

As soon as we are capable of forming any wish, it is for 
enjoyment ; and we prize it in proportion to the solidity of its 
basis, to its capability of affording lasting pleasure. 

" Perpetuity of bliss is bliss ; " but what concern has it with 
non-existence ? This is the quenching of all things in eternal 
night ; and who regards it but with a shudder ? 

If one, burdened with a consciousness of guilt, chooses 



42 



DESIRE TO BE REMEMBERED. 



this drapery of everlasting night, it is not because he courts it 
of itself, but because the accusing voice of conscience tells him 
it were better not to be, than to meet the sentence of justice 
that awaits the unrepentant. But even these wish on, and 
hope on for something better. None of these but desire a 
happy immortality. 

And why is it that men are so anxious to build themselves a 
reputation that shall go down to posterity ? Why any interest 
in things that shall happen after they are gone ? 

" The cause is lodged in immortality," 

and amounts to a clear demonstration that man does not wish, 
nor even suppose, that the living flame will be extinguished 
when earth shall cease to minister unto him. None choose to 
be swept away from all remembrance ; to go down to the grave 
" unpraised, unepitaphed, and leave no whispering of a name 
on earth : " they turn away from the very idea. Epicurus pro- 
fessed to care little for the life of the soul, yet in the hour of 
death comforted himself with the assurance that he should live in 
the memory of those he left behind, and the reputation secured 
by his philosophical works. So, too, Horace thought that his 
poems would gain for him an imperishable immortality. Says 
he, "I have erected a monument more lasting than brass, and 
loftier than the kingly, elevated pyramids, which not the wast- 
ing rain, nor the unrestrained north wind, nor a numberless 
series of years, nor the flight of time, shall be able to destroy. I 
shall not wholly die, and a great part of me shall escape the 
goddess of death." Thus, unconsciously, they created their 
own eternity of thought, and left no limit to the power of 
mind. Under the influence of this desire, Time, with its 
sweeping scythe, becomes less a remorseless thing, and the 
Angel of Death a messenger whose appearance may be the 
introduction to a nobler sphere of action. 

How many, even in the heathen world, among the philoso- 
phers and moralists of antiquity, its poets and orators, have 



DEMOSTHENES' FAITH. 



43 



welcomed the arrow which Death aimed at them, hoping for 
their souls to be out of prison, and .their bodies out of pain ! 

When Demosthenes had fled for shelter to an asylum from 
the resentment of Antipater, who had sent Archias to bring 
him by force, and when Archias promised upon his honor that 
he should not lose his life if he would voluntarily make his 
personal appearance, — "God forbid," said he, "that after I 
have heard Xenocrates and Plato discourse so divinely on the 
immortality of the soul, I should prefer a life of infamy and 
disgrace to an honorable death." 

The same feeling is apparent in the Indian's death-song, that 
we have heard sung in our childhood, — 

"I shall go to the land where my father has gone, 
And he will rejoice at the fame of his son." 

But it is not only strong minds that have exhibited this sublime 
heroism, this beautiful faith. Even the veriest child, who can 
give no reason for things, talks with confidence of another life, 
and what it shall do there. Not long since, a little child, upon 
whom the sun of five successive summers had never shone, was 
smitten by disease, and the idea of death came to her mind ; 
and what was the language of infancy ? "I shall go up into the 
sky, where God is, and where my little playmate has gone," 
alluding to one that had died just before her ; and this was a 
child unblessed with Christian parents and Christian instruc- 
tion, whose little feet had never entered the sanctuary or 
Sabbath school, and consequently limited in her ideas of spir- 
itual things. What could this be but a God-implanted knowl- 
edge, and desire to live on forever? 

Another child, of ten years, on the boundary of the spirit 
world, exclaimed, "Sweet sounds come to my ear — far-off 
music. Papa, I am sure it comes from another land than 
this. I want to go where it is." And with her childish 
features irradiated with a peaceful smile, she went. 

Verily, this must have been divinely communicated to these 



44 



AMBITION NEVER SATISFIED. 



infant souls — souls that had scarcely known enough of earthly 
life to know what it meant, much less to comprehend another. 

It is evident that this desire forms the mainspring of Christian 
action in our world ; that to this is to be attributed all the 
worthy records which adorn the annals of the church and the 
world. On what other principle can we account for the disin- 
terested labors and self-denying exertions of men who have 
been willing martyrs that they might be instrumental in win- 
ning others to a blessed, endless life ? 

What else could make them so indifferent to their own ease, 
their bodily comfort, leading them to sacrifice the dearest 
interests of this life, silence the pleadings of affection, and 
burst the ties which bind to country, kindred, and home, and 
all, that they might find those who, with them, should be co- 
heirs to " an eternal inheritance " ? 

It is because these and others like them have desired a 
^better country; " because the prospect was so full of glory, 
that they were willing to do so much to secure for themselves 
and others a title to the rich possessions in the other world. 
The stake, the rack, and the prison, all bear witness to the 
power of this desire to triumph over every form of pain and 
suffering, and render contemptible the promise of earthly 
grandeur and renown in the comparison. 

Turning from motives of action to the character of the mind 
itself, we perceive a natural restlessness — a perpetual yearn- 
ing after some future good which betokens an immortal nature, 
or, at least, adds weight to the presumption already adduced. 

We may range the wide world over, in vain, to find human 
beings perfectly satisfied with their present condition and 
enjoyment. They may have within their reach every kind of 
gratification, every variety of pleasure ; science, wealth, fame, 
philosophy may all bring their tribute ; but, amid the enthu- 
siasm and allurements found in all these, there is a vacuum 
in the heart that is not yet filled. Like the miser over his 
hoarded gold, it still cries, " Give me more" The mind looks 



PEBPETUAL LONGINGS. 



45 



forward in anticipation to particular scenes and objects which 
promise much ; to the acquisition of certain good which will 
make perfectly happy ; to coming days that will bring the 
"good time;" but the reality never equals the anticipation, 
the mind is never satisfied with these things. 

Present good, whatever it may be, is comparatively taste- 
less ; but the relish for something else is always keen. Hence 
the inordinate cravings for pleasure, the extravagant thirst for 
novelty, the constant demand for exciting intelligence, so char- 
acteristic of mankind. 

Instead of sympathizing with the Christian poet, who, in 
contrasting the momentary space of time with what should 
come after, gave utterance to the earnest truth, — 

" Man wants but little here below, 
Nor wants that little long," — 

mankind in general make their poetry extend through long 
lines of thick-clustering wants, which, if granted, there come 
still others of equal length that alike stop short of the demand, 
leaving the spirit still pressing eagerly on in quest of some- 
thing new. 

Alexander, the world's conqueror, exhibits this principle, 
though on a larger scale, and with more power than ordinary 
men are wont to show forth, yet, nevertheless, the same 
in kind. 

His insatiable ambition prompted him to the desire of 
standing a mighty leader, swaying the sceptre of the world ; 
and to this end he gathered about him an invincible host, 
before whose march proud cities trembled and fell, kingdoms 
were desolated, and the success of his project began to fill him 
with exultation ; but the words of a philosopher came sounding 
in his ears, " There is an infinite number of worlds," and the 
grasping man bowed his head and wept that his conquests 
were confined to one. 

It is true that " the eye can never be satisfied with seeing. 



46 



THE SOUL'S LONGINGS FROM GOD. 



nor the ear with hearing," neither can the soul be satisfied in 
its desires here ; for the deep profound of its nature cannot be 
understood and filled, save by the hand who created it. 

It may sound everything on earth, accumulate every possible 
variety of treasure, exult in new and valuable discoveries, 
rejoice in new facts and theories, and the sum of the whole 
matter will be what Solomon found it, " vanity of vanities " 
So true is it that " man never is, but always to be, blest ; 99 that 
he is a being of unbounded desires ; and whence proceeds this 
want amid such variety? Why is it that relish for present 
enjoyment is lost in the never-ceasing wish for something more 
than we do, or ever did, possess? 

These things are unanswerable unless the soul lives on, and 
there be a future life which invites and draws out the capacity 
of man, answering to those desires, and satisfying those 
yearnings, which seem so strange if there be no life but this. 

These desires, it is evident, are a part of the mind itself 
— consequently God's own creation ; and have they no corre- 
spondent objects either in this world or another ? Are we to 
be forever wearying ourselves with the search for good there is 
not the remotest possibility of attaining, while our natures are 
wasting away and dying under the influence of the desire ? 

" Can it be that we are formed with a passionate longing for 
immortality, and yet destined to perish after this short period 
of existence? 

"We must suppose either that the desire of immortality 
will be gratified, or that the Creator takes delight in tanta- 
lizing his creatures with hopes and expectations which will end 
in eternal disappointment. To admit the latter supposition 
would be inconsistent with every rational idea we can form of 
the moral attributes of the Divinity. It would be inconsistent 
with his veracity; for to encourage hopes and desires which 
are never intended to be gratified, is the characteristic of a 
deceiver, and therefore contrary to every conception we can 
form of the conduct of a f God of truth.' It would be incon- 



MAN ALONE DESIRES IMMORTALITY. 



47 



sistent with his rectitude ; for every such deception implies an 
act of injustice toward the individual who is thus tantalized. 
It would be inconsistent with his wisdom; for it would imply 
that he has no other means of governing the intelligent crea- 
tion than those which have a tendency to produce fallacious 
hopes and fears in the minds of his rational offspring. 

K It would be inconsistent with his benevolence ; for as f the 
desire accomplished is sweet to the soul,' so disappointed 
hopes uniformly tend to produce misery. Yet the benevolence 
of the Deity, in every other point of view, is most strikingly 
displayed in all his arrangements in the material universe, and 
toward every species of existence." 

Turning from man to the lower orders of creation, we find 
the means for gratification of w T ant equal to want itself. Fol- 
lowing the promptings of instinct, they have no wish to go 
beyond the boundary it prescribes. They have no fears and 
apprehensions for the future, no hopes and anxieties, but simply 
a satisfied living in just the state where God placed them. They 
have no mental constitution to which the law of development 
applies. What pleases them one day will please them another, 
and still another, and so on until the day of their death, which 
they meet indifferently and unconcernedly. 

The fish in the sea desires nothing but its own watery ele- 
ment to make it happy. The demands of its whole existence 
are met in the liquid world in which it moves. So the bird of 
the air will spread her protecting wing over the little brood in 
her curiously wrought nest, and sing the livelong day, content 
in living. The bee constructs her waxen cell with never an 
attempt to do anything different, and the little creatures that 
cross our path in the woods unconcernedly do just what the 
guidings of instinct make them do. Thus it is with the whole 
animal creation. The organs with which nature has furnished 
them are all-sufficient for their purpose ; they neither seek nor 
desire others. It is only man that is never satisfied; only 
he who oversteps the boundaries of time, and stands up to 



48 



MAN WILL LIVE AGAIN. 



ask, "If I die, shall I live again?" And why? In the one 
case is Godlike reason, in the other feeble instinct; in one 
the measureless capacity of a thinking soul, in the other but 
animal life that dies out with the breath. 

The benevolent Governor of the universe has made ample 
provision for the happiness of his irrational creatures ; and 
shall man — the noblest of his works, the subject of such 
varied discipline, gifted with wonderful faculties — die like 
them ? 

To suppose this would be to place him lower than the lowest 
orders of creation, and admit a design altogether too unworthy 
for even our feeblest conceptions of the divine character. It 
seems more rational, therefore, to conclude that this world is 
not the final destination of man, but that, beyond this sublu- 
nary scene, there is a state that answereth to the strongest 
desires of the human soul, where it may " rest and expatiate " 
forever. 



MAN'S NATURE. 



49 



CHAPTEE III. 

ASPIRATIONS FOR MENTAL AND MORAL PERFECTION. 

Nature of the Soul. — Opinions of different Nations and Writers. — Power 
of Mind over Matter. — Influence of Disease. — Varied Capacity of 
Mind. — The mightiest never satisfied. — Influence of Science. — Obsta- 
cles to intellectual Greatness. — Limitless Objects. 

" Mind is God's first end." — Channtng. 

" How complicate, how wonderful, is man ! 
Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 
A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt! 
Though sullied and dishonored, still divine ! 
Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! 
O, what a miracle to man is man ! " 

Who can fathom the deep profound of man's nature ? What 
has logic, philosophy, or even " star-eyed science " to do with 
these mysterious depths? Depths did we say? It has heights 
none of them can ever reach. No ! not by their keenest, clear- 
est vision, nor their highest, most perfected art. We may 
reason about the substance and essence of the soul, its union 
with and control over the material, making the most " refined 
thought able to actuate the grossest matter ; " and yet, with all 
our reasonings, all our theories, we have not passed the boun- 
dary of conjecture. The strangest possible ideas have been 
advanced by different people and nations respecting it. Some 
have made it a subtile air, whose composition is made up of 
minute particles ; others have maintained that thinking is the 
essence of spirit ; and others still, like the Stoics, have made it a 
flame, or portion of heavenly light. So varied, too, are all 
their views relative to its situation. The brain, the stomach, 
heart, and blood have all been awarded the honor of furnishing 
4 



50 NATURE OF THE SOUL. 

a seat for this distinguished guest. Strabo gave it a more 
prominent position by placing it " between the eyebrows," 
while Aristotle allowed it the range of the whole body. Thus 
was the spiritual so grossly compounded with the material as 
to make it no very far-fetched idea to suppose it of kindred 
nature and duration with the latter. 

" Whether it is lodged in the brain," says one, " or whether 
it looks out at every pore, I know not ; but this I am willing 
to believe — that it does exist in the body, and will exist 
when the body is returned to earth ; " and " were we em- 
powered," says another, "by a secret wish, to remove moun- 
tains, or control the planets in their orbits, this extensive 
authority would not be more extraordinary, nor more beyond 
our comprehension," than this union of soul and body, than 
which all Nature furnishes no more mysterious principle. 

Although demonstrative certainty cannot be reached with 
reference to the nature of mind, we can yet trace its operations, 
and let cause and consequence bring their own elucidations to 
the confirmation of the subject before us, which is, that the 
aspirations of mind for a higher state of perfection and more 
extended knowledge, together with the fact that appropriate 
faculties and ever-increasing power of acquisition are given, 
are evidence that these powers will open to a more full develop- 
ment in another life. 

" Man is an intellectual being" is an every-day assertion. 
He has a power of thought, and desire for knowledge, that are 
so essentially a part of his mental constitution he cannot divest 
himself of it. The stream from its mountain source goes on 
in accumulated strength and force, though obstacles arise here 
and there to obstruct its progress. It will take a different 
course, seek out a new channel, for its tendencies are onward, 
and by an inevitable law it must proceed. So with mind : no 
effort of the will, no hinderance from material surroundings, can 
prevent its onward course. " On and still on," is its motto. 
It is always eager for what is to be known, what is coming. 



B OWEN'S OPINION 



51 



It is true there is an intimate sympathy between the soul and 
the body, between the spiritual and the material, as they are 
united, so that one does affect the other in a manner we know 
not how. The materialist may obtrude his narrow views, and 
tell us to the contrary ; but we are irresistibly led to the conclu- 
sion that mind is an independent spiritual substance, and the 
body an " extraneous something " to the man — only the "house 
he lives in." 

Bowen, speaking of this close but temporary union, observes 
that, " Viewed at any one moment, however close and intimate 
the union may appear, the body still seems to show its minis- 
terial character, and to acknowledge in every part the sovereign- 
ty of one undivided and separate will. Sensation extends to 
every part of it ; every fibre is instinct with life ; and the 
dominion of the will is absolute and immediate over every 
muscle and joint, as if the whole fabric and its tenant were one 
homogeneous system. The mind tires not of its supremacy, 
and is not wearied with the number of volitions required to 
keep every joint in action, and every organ performing its 
proper function. It would not delegate the control of the 
fingers to an inferior power, nor contrive mechanical or auto- 
matic means for moving the extremities. Within its sphere, it 
is sole sovereign, and is not perplexed with the variety and con- 
stant succession of its duties, extending to every part of the 
complex structure of which it is the animating and directing 
spirit. Sensation is not cumbered with the multitude of im- 
pressions it receives, nor is the fineness of perception dulled by 
repeated exercise. The sharpness of its edge rather improves 
by use, and we become more heedful of its lightest intimations. 

This improvement, however, is w T holly of the inner sense, 
the man's capacity being enlarged, while the external organ 
which is his instrument — the eye, for instance — is often injured, 
and sometimes destroyed, by excessive or unguarded use. 

" It does not appear," says Bishop Butler, " that the rela- 
tion of this gross body to the reflecting being is in any degree 



52 



BISHOP BUTLER'S ILLUSTRATION. 



necessary to thinking — to our intellectual enjoyments or suf- 
ferings ; nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation 
of the former by death will be the destruction of those present 
powers which render us capable of this state of reflection." 

In illustration of this point, he cites the instance of a young 
man who was attacked by that terrible disease the physicians 
call anchylosis, or stiffening of the joints, at the time when 
anticipations of entering active life and the duties of manhood 
are strongest. "First one knee refused its office ; and as this 
was accompanied with great pain, and perhaps the nature of 
the complaint was mistaken, the leg was amputated, in the 
hope that the evil would stop there. But the disease soon 
passed into the other limb, stiffened the remaining knee, and 
then crept on slowly from joint to joint, making each inflexible 
as it passed, till the whole lower portion of the body was nearly 
as rigid as iron, and the muscles had no longer any office to 
perform. 

" Gradually, then, it moved upward, leaving the vertebral 
column inflexible ; the arms and hands, which, in anticipation 
of its approach, had been bent into a position most convenient 
for the sufferer, stiffened there ; the neck refused to turn or 
bend, and the body became almost as immovable as if it had 
been carved out of the rock. Years passed between the first 
appearance of the disease and this awful completion of its work ; 
years elapsed after the hapless patient was thus hardened into 
stone ; and still he lived. Nor was this all : his eyes were 
attacked ; the sight of one was wholly lost, and the other 
became so exquisitely sensitive that it could seldom be exposed 
to the light, and never but a few moments at a time. And 
thus he remained for years, blind, immovable, prisoned in this 
house of stone, and echoing, we might suppose, the affecting 
exclamation of the apostle, 'Who shall deliver me from the 
body of this death?' But no word of impatience escaped 
him : the mind was clear and vigorous, the temper was not 
soured, the affections were as strong and clinging as ever. 



POWER OF MIND OVER DISEASE. 



53 



" His good sense, his wit, his knowledge of books, his interest 
in the passing topics of the day, made his chamber a favorite 
resort even of those who mi^ht not have been drawn thither 
merely by sympathy for his sufferings ; for, not infrequently, 
he was still exposed to agonizing pain. But, in the intervals 
of this distress, his active mind sought and found employment, 
and numerous contributions, which this living statue dictated 
for a periodical, are now in print ; " and, "What," he asks, in 
conclusion, "says the materialist to a case like this? Was that 
powerless body, maimed, stiffened, blind, hardly animate, — 
was that the person, the man, still active, inquisitive, indus- 
trious, generous, and affectionate? or was it only a prison- 
house, in which the fettered soul was compelled to await its 
time of release ? I envy not the feelings or the intellect of him," 
he continues, "who could stand by the bedside of that patient 
sufferer, and still disbelieve that 'there is a spirit in man, and 
the inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding.'" 

A similar case has come under our own observation — 
of a young man in like circumstances, who, though his body 
became as an adamantine structure about him, yet indulged in 
the pleasures of imagination, and exulted in hope, seemingly 
with as much freedom and joyousness as ever. Thought kept 
on her endless circuit untiringly. 

His " house " was strongly assailed, well nigh destroyed, but 
the tenant within looked out and said, "I live, and have capa- 
cious wants ; therefore give me food : my power to endure, my 
faculty to receive, still remain ; therefore minister to the neces- 
sities of my nature." 

We will not say that these powers are as strong, and admit 
of the same degree of cultivation, as they would under other 
circumstances ; for this would be to destroy the sympathetic 
link - between the material and the immaterial, of which we 
have already spoken, the truth of which our own experience 
corroborates, and observation confirms. 

What we would now affirm is, that mind makes the man; 



54 



VARIED CAPACITY OF MIND. 



and it is this that continually longs for knowledge, for fuller 
and more perfect development, — therefore it becomes evi- 
dent that a material frame is in no way fitted for the eternal 
home of the spirit. "Even if man," says one writer, "had 
continued morally perfect, there would probably have been 
much of imperfection incident to his physical nature." 

The spirit, happy in the consciousness of purity, would yet 
have panted for clearer views, larger knowledge, and more 
intimate fellowship with its Maker. The eye would have 
beamed with the hope of a brighter existence, and the mind 
would have expanded in the anticipation of communion with 
the unseen. Enoch walked with God so intimately that death 
seemed afraid to shake at him his dreadful dart ; yet he could 
not be left to immortality on earth ; but, as if the body were 
no sphere for such purity and cultivation, "he was not, for 
God took him." 

Why this progressive nature of mind, this vast capacity of 
intellect, these limitless powers, and equally limitless subjects 
that invite the exercise of these powers? How varied are 
these, and how admirably fitted are all the senses to receive 
knowledge — so many avenues to the inner storehouse, whose 
receptive power is wonderful ! 

The sublimest objects that can occupy the mind come through 
the sense of vision ; and loftier ideals can scarcely be conceived 
than are presented by Nature in the magnificence of her power. 

The eye can not only take in every feature of beauty in the 
surrounding landscape, embrace the thousand objects that arise 
between it and the farthest horizon, but it pierces the heights 
above and the depths below in quest of some new form of 
beauty, some new discovery in science, or contribution to art. 
It traces the motion of mighty worlds as they roll in their 
distant orbits, defines the position and power of the myriad 
sparkling forms that gem the nightly concave, though they fill 
regions so remote, — 

" That their swift beams — the swiftest things that be — 
Have travelled centuries on their flight to earth." 



MAN NEVER SATISFIED. 



55 



Again, its microscopic gaze is directed to the countless forms 
that live, move, and act in their own appropriate world — a 
drop of water ; but we cannot speak the fractional part of that 
which delights the soul through the medium of this sense. 

All the other senses are fitted, in like manner, to extend the 
range of knowledge, and enhance the capacity of enjoyment. 
A thousand pleasing melodies and grateful odors minister to 
organs just fitted to appreciate their ministrations ; and if there 
be special need or desire in any direction, the means of fitting 
culture are at hand. There are beautiful harmony and propor- 
tion in all ; and is there no significance in this ? 

Look, too, at the understanding of man, as the external 
senses pour in their golden tribute to aid in the formation of 
ideas and sentiments, and see if there be any end to his power 
to grasp them. 

See how, under its influence, Science has shed her benignant 
rays, and the application of her laws to practical life sent a 
wave of blessing and consequent thrill of joy over the whole 
world ; how sublimity of discovery and nobleness of invention 
have shed new light, and brought new value to everything 
below the sun, as well as in the heavens above. 

Man, seemingly, cannot be satisfied without seeking to 
explore every foot of this "terrestrial ball." 

Untraversed waters are no barrier to his desire to visit con- 
tinents upon the other side, islands in remotest seas, and nothing 
deters him from pushing on to the region of ice and ever- 
lasting snows, to see what God has placed in that somewhat 
dubious corner of his universe — the North Pole. Things 
must be likewise settled as to its southern counterpart, and 
what is there. His explorations lead him into the bosom of 
earth, and down to the bottom of oceans, to see the charac- 
teristics of that floor which the Creator laid so long ago. He 
arranges and classifies the infinite variety of vegetables, min- 
erals, and animals which earth contains, analyzes the invisi- 
ble atmosphere with which it is surrounded, determines the 



56 MAN'S VIC TOBIES OVER MATTER. 

elementary principles of which it is composed, discovers the 
nature of thunder, arrests the rapid lightning in its course, 
ascertains the laws by which the planets are directed in their 
courses, weighs the masses of distant worlds, and explores 
regions of the universe, invisible to the unassisted eye, and 
whose distance exceeds all human calculation and comprehen- 
sion. 

By his ever-active ingenuity he has sent out floating masses, 
like to " things of life," over every sea and ocean, whose motion 
is guided and course directed by curious instruments, making 
his path certain over the threatening wave and white-crested 
billow. He can also construct that which will bear him, an 
aerial voyager, above the regions of the clouds ; send thought, 
with the rapidity of lightning, whithersoever he will ; take 
not only him, but multitudes of his companions, with strange 
velocity, from one portion of the land to another. He can 
look back over the history of the past, and trace the moral 
bearings of every revolution and event that have agitated the 
world since its commencement ; he can scan minutely the pres- 
ent aspect of all nations ; but is he satisfied with this ? His 
restless desires would lead him to gather shells on every shore, 
cull flowers in every clime, and witness life in its every man- 
ifestation. 

" His eye must see, bis foot each spot must tread, 
Where sleeps the dust of earth's recorded dead ; 
Where rise the monuments of ancient time, 
Pillar and pyramid in age sublime ; 
The pagan's temple and the churchman's tower ; 
War's bloodiest plain and wisdom's greenest bower : 
Where Socrates once taught he thirsts to stray ; 
Where Homer poured Ms everlasting lay ; 
From Virgil's tomb he longs to pluck one flower, 
By Avon's stream to live one moonlight hour ; 
To pause where England * garners up ' her great, 
And drop a patriot's tear to Milton's fate : 
Fame's living masters, too, he must behold, 
Whose deeds shall blazon with the best of old; 
Nations compare, their laws and customs scan, 
And read, wherever spread, the book of man." 



NEWTON AND HUMBOLDT. 



57 



But all this does not satisfy. The most faithful student of the 
cyclopaedia of human knowledge still desires something more, 
finding his receptive powers so far from being exhausted, that 
they move with greater activity. Sir Isaac Newton, during a 
great part of his life, was engaged in the most profound inves- 
tigations that had ever claimed the attention of the human 
mind. In answer to his eager and patient inquiries, Nature 
disclosed the secret springs by which she moved her delicate 
and complicated machinery, and the sublimest discoveries were 
made known to the world. Light was thrown upon things 
which hitherto had been shrouded in Cimmerian gloom, and 
the consequence was an enlightening influence through all the 
earth. 

This richly-freighted mind went on from one degree of at- 
tainment to another, from one height of knowledge to another, 
until, nearing the boundary of his mortal existence, he was 
warned that his labors must cease. Was this the end of desire ? 
So far did all his knowledge seem to come short of the vast- 
ness and magnificence of what was to be known, that it ap- 
peared to him like gathering a few pebbles on the shore, while 
the " great ocean of undiscovered truth " lay before him. 

It is always thus with those who drink the deepest of philos- 
ophy — -they dream of other springs and talk of other foun- 
tains than those they have seen, desiring to know if their waters 
boast any different properties, any new elements, wherewith 
they may cool the fever of their minds. 

The mighty mind of Baron Humboldt did not know enough 
to satisfy him, if we may so speak ; nor do the strongest, bold- 
est, and most daring flights of intellect meet the demands of 
this grasping nature of ours. 

The surface of the earth becomes tame, and man penetrates 
beyond the limits of all that is visible in the immense canopy 
of heaven, and ranges amidst "the infinity of unknown systems 
and worlds, dispersed throughout the boundless regions of cre- 
ation," and, weary with the mute eloquence of Nature, he would 



58 



IMMENSITY OF CREATION. 



have a voice break upon his ear, teaching him that which al- 
ways has been, and still remains, unteachable. 

The glimpse obtained starts numberless inquiries, and we 
hear him saying, — 

" Tell me, ye splendid orbs, as from your thrones 
Ye mark the rolling provinces that own 
Your sway, what beings fill those bright abodes ; 
How formed, how gifted ; what their power, their state, 
Their happiness, their wisdom. Do they bear 
The stamp of human nature ? Or has God 
Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms 
And more celestial minds ? Does Innocence 
Still wear her native and untainted bloom ? 
Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad, 
And sowed corruption in those fairy bowers ? 
Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire ? 
And Slavery forged his chains ? and Wrath, and Hate, 
And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust, 
Leagued their base bands to tread out Light and Truth, 
And scattered woe where Heaven has planted joy ? 
Or are they yet all Paradise, unfallen 
And uncorrupt; existence one long joy, 
Without disease upon the frame, or sin 
Upon the heart, or weariness of life ; 
Hope never quenched, and age unknown, 
And death unfeared ; while fresh and fadeless youth 
Glows in the light from God's near throne of Love ? 
Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair ! 
Speak, speak ! the mysteries of those living worlds 
Unfold ! " 

But, notwithstanding the intensity of desire and eagerness of 
inquiry, there is ever heard the despairing cry, "JVo language." 
There they shine in all their glory, as they were placed by the 
hand of the Infinite, in the "circle of the heavens," bewildering 
the mind of man by the immensity of the scene ; but what forms 
of sensitive and intellectual life, what diversity of scenery, 
what peculiar exhibitions are witnessed there, man has never 
known. Not but that he has tried to "pry the folded leaves," 
but because on all has been written everlasting silence. 

The curious eye of scientific observation has, indeed, deter- 



UNIVERSE DISPLAYS GOB'S WISDOM. 



59 



mined the size and distances of the planets ; made various and 
sublime discoveries ; but all these, in all probability, are as 
nothing in comparison with the undiscovered and undiscover- 
able things which yet remain. Man will need an immortal 
eye-glass for these things, formed of material too delicately fine, 
too magnificently powerful, for human construction or oper- 
ation. 

Is it true that worlds and systems of worlds still hang sus- 
pended throughout the illimitable tracts of creation, that are 
never to be known ? 

God, in the course of his providence, has directed the human 
mind to the contemplation and study of these things, and fur- 
nished it with requisite endowments for the prosecution of the 
work, thus making his will and intention apparent that the 
glories of his creation should be opened, partially at least, to 
human view. 

It is natural for us to suppose his universe was intended to 
display his perfections, shadow forth his power, and alford 
gratification and the means of happiness to the intellectual 
beings he had formed. "The Creator stands in no need of 
innumerable assemblages of worlds and of inferior ranks of in- 
telligences, in order to secure or augment his felicity. Innu- 
merable ages before the universe was created, he existed alone, 
independent of every other being, and infinitely happy in the 
contemplation of his own eternal excellences. No other rea- 
son, therefore, can be assigned for the production of the uni- 
verse, but the gratification of his rational offspring, and that 
he might give a display of the infinite glories of his nature to 
innumerable orders of intelligent creatures. Ten thousand 
times ten thousand suns, distributed throughout the regions 
of immensity, with all their splendid apparatus of planets, 
comets, moons, and rings, can afford no spectacle of novelty 
to expand and entertain the Eternal Mind, since they all 
existed, in their prototypes, in the plans and conceptions of the 
Deity, during the countless ages of a past eternity." 



60 



UNIVERSE FOR MAN'S STUDY. 



Creation, then, we may suppose as a grand theatre for the 
display of almighty power and wisdom, and the elevation and 
perfection of the race of beings the Creator has made the 
objects of his fostering care. Will these, so amply provided 
with faculties for acquiring and treasuring knowledge, and 
this to an indefinite extent, — will these be finally and eternally 
disappointed in their desires and attempts ? 

Were there no other world but this, it would be easier to 
suppose that man was made to "grovel here below." Science 
would be comparatively limited in such a case, and man, dur- 
ing his threescore years and ten, might study into the laws 
which regulate the little ball he inhabits, experience his 
quota of suffering and enjoyment, and then, weary with the 
narrow round, and seeing no further scope for exercise, his 
languishing powers and feeble energies might die out and 
cease to be. 

But it is not so. What is spread out before the mind, invit- 
ing its study, invoking its attention with ceaseless importunity, 
is nothing less than infinite. It is immensity so vast, we are 
lost in the attempt to conceive even a small part of it. It is 
sublime beyond all the power of the loftiest imagination to 
paint ; possessing a grandeur inconceivably above the most 
glowing conception which the most gifted genius has ever 
formed. 

Every new discovery paves the way for another. Every 
improvement that adds to the perfection of the telescope re- 
veals new wonders in the starry heavens, and unfolds that which 
is rich in its suggestions of immortality. The mighty coun- 
sels of the Eternal seem manifest, and we exclaim, Surely man 
was not " bound to the surface of this pygmy globe." Man, 
with his colossal powers of mind, his ever-expanding appreci- 
ative faculties, was never made for an assigned period, though 
that period be ages we could never count. 

There is no limit to his capacity for acquiring and treasuring 
knowledge. He never knows so much but that he may know 



OBSTACLES TO MAN'S PROGRESS. 61 



more. He has never garnered so much but that there is room 
for more. Those who have been reaping the longest, — who 
have been busy from the morning till the twilight of existence, 
and have gathered the greatest harvest, — even they are anxious 
to secure still larger sheaves for the mental storehouse, the 
capacity of which increases in proportion to the amount com- 
mitted to it. 

And would this capability of indefinite expansion have been 
made to exist only to torture and to tantalize ? — -to find its full 
end in a round of physical gratification and inferior delight ? 

Would so glorious a work have been set before the human 
mind, with so many inducements to prosecute it, — the requisite 
ability and energy given, and the time alone denied? 

Earth allows the opportunity of learning scarcely more than 
the preface to the great volume prepared by the Infinite Au- 
thor. Truths are traced upon its pages with inimitable power 
and skill. Its chapters are such as no mortal can pen ; its 
illustrations and images are divine ; its delineations true as 
Truth itself ; its exhortations are earnest, its appeals effective, 
and its style, in beauty and attractiveness, beyond comparison. 
Its type is the type of heaven ; the publisher, God himself ; 
his agents, the mighty elements, who celebrate the merits of 
this divinely-wrought combination with unwearied tongue ; and 
all for the benefit of man. And is this to be the offspring of 
a day? Rather, is not immortality stamped upon every line? 
Man, at the end of his race, has only disciplined his powers to 
commence this study. A thousand contingent and untoward 
circumstances conspire to prevent the full and vigorous exer- 
cise of his intellectual powers during his earthly stay. How 
seldom do we find uninterrupted devotion to these objects of 
thought and study for any considerable length of time ! It mat- 
ters not if one be wedded to the pursuit of science — if he find it 
congenial to his taste to be exclusively employed in this manner ; 
in the midst of his darling projects and most cherished theories, 
business and care will intrude their unwelcome visages, and 



62 



IDEAL OF PEEFECTION. 



demand their due. Next, animal nature will suggest the desi- 
rableness, and not only this, the necessity, of attending to its 
claims. The clamorous voice of appetite will be heard above 
all, and, in the general turmoil, will come a suspension of 
intellectual effort ; and, when it is resumed, it will be found 
that in the chain the mind had been weaving some links are 
either gone or broken. 

There is a general idea of a perfect chain to be wrought 
out somewhere and somehow ; but the contradictory opinions, 
jarring interests, and wayward passions of men make such 
a scene of strife and confusion, there is no harmonious work- 
ing. There is so much of pride and envy, so much of malice 
and prejudice, we are so ready to deceive ourselves with what 
is false and unreal, so inclined to listen to the seductive voice 
of soft-toned Ease, and turn aside to the bowers of Indolence, 
that we unfit ourselves for the work almost unconsciously. 
"We court temptation and lament it. We woo these hinder- 
ances, and then as surely deplore their serpent-like embrace. 
Something like this is more or less characteristic of all mortal 
progress. Besides, our physical powers so soon faint under the 
pressure of intense application, and the intellectual is so many 
times obliged to succumb to the physical, that the progress is 
small at best. 

There have been instances on record of great progress by 
minds of a high order and genius of a clear vision ; but, as 
we have said before, such are not inclined to spend, their time 
in congratulating themselves, from their elevated stand-point, 
on what they have gained; but so much more lies before 
them, — the goal they would reach is so far in the distance, — 
that the past is lost in the hopeful future. So diversified and 
inviting are the scenes of which they have caught a glimpse, 
that they stretch forward with eagerness to grasp new dis- 
coveries, and descry some new openings through which light 
may beam upon them from the regions of infinity. They 
would be delighted participants in things of a more exalted 
sphere — the happier recipients of diviner knowledge. 



ASPIRATIONS FOR PERFECTION. 



63 



But the book is not so soon learned ; no time but that which 
shall run parallel with the endless procession of suns and con- 
stellations in the universe will be sufficient to learn it. No 
life but an unending one will be long enough to look upon all 
the wonders of creative power ; " to lift the veil from the 
beautiful mysteries which burn along the infinite abysses," and 
show to the exulting pupil all the Great Teacher has marked 
out for him; 

So varied and wonderful are the displays of divine power 
and wisdom, that the cycles of eternity might run their endless 
round, the soul have its energies constantly enlisted, and yet 
never arrive at a point in its history when it would cease to 
find something new to excite its interest, and call forth its 
admiration. These things, and the fitness of man to engage in 
them, also his aspirations for more extended knowledge, war- 
rant, at least, the supposition that he is destined to an im- 
mortal existence. 

But it is not simply knowledge that these aspirations are 
confined to — they seek a higher state of perfection. 

The perfect has a charm for every mind. No phase of 
actual life realizes man's ideal ; no attainment reaches his 
imaginary standard. Perfection is the bright cynosure of 
life. Hence writers invest their characters with virtues in 
clusters. Nothing was ever found like them in any mortal that 
ever crossed their path. Like the painter who blended in one 
the charms of several in order to produce his ideal form of 
beauty, so these writers cull here and there from the flowers 
that adorn the borders of humanity, and tying up the choice 
garland, ask the world to come and see the faultless beauty of 
earth. They have left the nightshade to itself, and all things 
similar to it, for their bouquet should be unmingled fragrance. 
It is but a principle of human nature to reject the bitter and 
retain the sweet — to leave the imperfect and seek the perfect. 

We desire perfect health and enjoyment, perfect friendship 
and confidence, and so through the whole catalogue of loves, 



64 



MAN ALONE ALWAYS PROGRESSIVE. 



hopes, feelings, and passions. So in every department of the 
business world. The artist must have a perfect model; the 
manufacturer must have perfect machinery; the miser perfect 
security; and, indeed, through all ranks perfection is the 
grand aim. 

We would be better and purer in nature, having more self- 
control, more disinterestedness, more of every quality that 
elevates and blesses the spirit. There is seldom a time but 
that we long to be better, secretly at least, if we blush to 
make the open acknowledgment. But notwithstanding the 
most persistent efforts, and the most lofty aspirings of mind 
and heart, perfection is never reached. Imperfection is here 
stamped upon man, and all that man does ; and is this vain 
sighing and longing to be the portion of God-created spirits ? 

" Brutes are not haunted and disquieted by the desire of an 
ideal felicity which they cannot find ; man only sighs after an 
image of infinite perfection, that can be realized only in God ; 
aspires to his native skies, with as natural a tendency as that 
by which the flame ascends. Man appears to be the only being 
on earth to whose nature and faculties his present state is not 
commensurate. Every other creature completes its destiny — 
attains the utmost end of its faculties. Man alone is always 
progressive, interminably advancing in his conceptions and 
achievements ; yet he is always cut off in the midst of his work ; 
he is never permitted to complete a single science." 

Surely there must be a world where the full significance of 
completion will be realized. The Infinite Creator, complete 
in himself, must surely delight in the completion of his works 
everywhere, especially in man, his best and noblest work. 

"There is not, in my opinion," says Creech, an eloquent 
writer, " a more pleasing and triumphant consideration in 
religion than this — the perpetual progress which the soul 
makes toward the perfection of its nature, without ever ar- 
riving at a period in it. To look upon the soul as going on 
from strength to strength ; to consider that she is to shine for- 



ASPIEATI0N8 FORESHADOW IMMORTALITY. 65 



ever with new accessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity, 
that she will be still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to 
Knowledge, carries in it something wonderfully agreeable to 
that ambition winch is natural to the mind of man." 

These desires and aspirations, this capacity and this infini- 
tude of display, are indeed full of meaning. They are prophetic 
of immortality, and strongly suggest the idea that 

" in other days, 
When death shall give the encumbered spirit wings, 
Its range shall be extended ; " 

that perchance it shall roam among vast mysterious spheres, — 

' ' pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each, 
Familiar with its children, learn their laws, 
And share their state, and study and adore 
The infinite varieties of bliss 
And beauty, by the hand of Power divine 
Lavished on all its works." 

5 



66 MAN AS AN INTELLECTUAL BEING. 



CHAPTER IV. 

MORAL PERCEPTIONS PRESUPPOSE A FUTURE. 

Man as an Intellectual Being. — Heart- Culture. — Flowers and Icebergs. — 
The Inner Light. — The Moral Virtues. — Influence of Love — of 
Friendship. — Examples of Moral Heroism. — Strong Presumption of the 
Continuance of Moral Powers in a more perfect State. 

Observe God's plan — " On all he moral worth 
Bestowed, and moral tribute asked from all." — Pollok. 

Man is an intellectual being, exalted by reason and judgment 
far above all the highest forms of animal life ; but when we 
have said this, have we completed the description of human 
nature ? Is it enough simply to say that he is " endowed with 
reason and foresight, free to act, and able to learn through 
experience what actions will most effectually promote his 
present and future happiness ? " " The consciousness of every 
individual will answer," says Bowen, " that it is not all ; that 
there is an element of our nature which excels prudence more 
than prudence excels animal instinct or passion. This prin- 
ciple extends its jurisdiction over our whole being, claiming 
authority to control and subdue the promptings of self-love as 
absolutely as it overrules the appetites and desires. By the 
side of prudence, or above it, it introduces the novel concep- 
tion of duty, or moral obligation ; over personal happiness, as 
an object of effort and a guide to action, it places the idea of 
absolute right. Putting aside the consideration of external 
things, it erects its throne in the soul of man, and judges, not 
the outward act, but the motives and intentions which lead to 
it, and constitute its moral character. 



HEAR T-CUL TUBE. 



67 



" Dealing thus exclusively with conceptions of the intellect, 
or pure ideas, all contingency or uncertainty disappears 
from its decisions, and the sentence which it pronounces is 
as unchangeable as the purposes of the Almighty. It supplies 
the medium and the standard of judgment through which we 
regard our own conduct and that of our fellow-beings, and 
form our notions of the attributes of God. Here, then, is the 
proper foundation of natural religion, Natural theology, 
which is the product of the intellect, makes us acquainted 
with the being and the natural attributes of the Deity, such 
as his infinite duration, power, and wisdom, merely as facts 
of science, or truths for contemplation. Natural religion, 
proceeding from conscience, makes known to us his moral 
nature, his purposes and will, and so terminates, not in 
knowledge, but in action ; " and man, it is evident, is formed 
not only for contemplation, but for action. He is eminently 
and of necessity an active being. He has powers, principles, 
instincts, feelings, and affections woven into the very consti- 
tution of his nature, which prompt him to ceaseless efforts in 
virtuous attainment for his own good, and to exertions for the 
happiness of others, according to his perfection of moral taste 
and sense of moral obligation. 

These powers, principles, and feelings are capable of indefi- 
nite expansion, like those of mind. They are subject to kindred 
laws, exercise and progression being as closely linked in the 
one case as in the other. 

Hence we are wont to call that system of education sadly 
deficient which does not include the culture and development 
of the moral faculties, as well as those of the intellect. 

Said a student in one of our literary institutions, in a con- 
versation upon this subject, " We are wonderfully devoted to 
intellect. We leave no means untried that will enhance its 
power and brilliancy. 

" Our professed aim, from beginning to end, is to fit our 
mental machinery to be used with power and effect in the work 



68 



FLOWERS AND ICEBERGS. 



of reclaiming a world from error, superstition, and sin ; but we 
daily neglect that which is to be the magic spring to move the 
wno le — the improvement and perfection of the moral ele- 
ment." Harmony of action, and therefore effectiveness, can 
only be secured by the union and wise cooperation of both. 

Sparkling scintillations of mind may dazzle and bewilder, for 
a while, by the magnificence of theory and the sublimity of 
idea ; but a mere intellectual man is a frigid iceberg, and he is 
never softened until he drinks at the overflowing fountain of 
the heart, and bathes himself in the refreshing, invigorating 
streams of charity, sympathy, and love that flow therefrom. 
Flowers blossom all along the margin of these streams, and 
man never appears more thoroughly great than when he takes 
these to his bosom, that their sweet fragrance may lend a charm 
to his whole nature. Never does he seem to be more worthily 
employed than when engaged in cultivating and tending this 
spot in God's moral universe ; for it is capable of becoming a 
scene of rare beauty, and yielding the richest return for all 
labor expended upon it. Too often, alas ! we perceive only 
dwarfed plants, where the eye should be feasted with luxuriant 
growth. In the northern part of our hemisphere are regions 
of everlasting snow, where icy mountains erect an insurmount- 
able barrier to the march of man ; but even here the sun looks 
kindly down, and at the foot of some of these mountains are 
little patches of green, and little, timid, sensitive flowers 
open their eyes to a strange yet glad existence. As far as 
the daring spirit of man has ventured, he has found these 
children of the snow, and always hailed them with inexpressible 
delight, for they were full of joyous meaning, the harbingers 
of pleasant thought. 

Too much like these isolated gems of the north are the moral 
virtues in our hearts. We cultivate them — if we bestow any 
culture at all — in little patches, at the foot of the lofty moun- 
tain of intellect, while we ought to bring them out from the 
shade, and let them rise in their own graceful proportion under 



CONSCIENCE. 



69 



the influence of the full blaze of truth, and divinely-generated 
heat. We love symmetry and beauty everywhere. We love 
such objects in Nature — much more a beautiful, symmetrical 
character ; and this, as we have said, cannot be attained but by 
the God-intended combination of the moral and intellectual. 

" 'Tis moral grandeur," said Young, "that makes the mighty 
man " ; and not only is it the source of power, but of true 
nobility. Under its influence life is invested with new solem- 
nity, and the obligations of man take a wider scope. 

Conscience — the voice of God in the soul — by its counsels 
ever points to the path of duty and of right. It stands, like a 
faithful sentinel, upon the walls of our being ; now saying 
proceed, and anon cautioning us to beware lest that which 
the moral nature hath need of be lost, and that which would 
prove its detriment be received. 

It is in our power, by hearkening to this voice, to make it 
still more eloquent in its pleadings ; by listening to its tones, 
to make them still more gently persuasive in winning us to a 
better and holier life ; and life that does not involve progress 
in goodness is not to us a desirable form of existence. We 
instinctively reject it, as not admitting the existence of those 
qualities which now constitute the true ornament and dignity 
of human nature, and as making no provision for their culti- 
vation, even if they did exist. A more authoritative principle 
than self-love declares to us, that the practice of virtue is 
higher than the pursuit of enjoyment, that holiness is more 
desirable than happiness, and that the divine government, in 
so far as it shows infinite justice and benevolence combined, 
and affords scope for progress and effort as well as for the 
gratification of desires ending in self, is in truth the noblest 
conceivable expression of the wisdom and goodness of God. 
Conscience ever reiterates this as she sits upon her throne, but 
we attempt no metaphysical argument as to the nature and 
functions of conscience, the mysterious operations of the 
human will, or the lofty and abstract principles which have 



70 



THE INNEB LIGHT. 



caused so much controversy among moralists and philosophers, 
for this is not to our purpose. 

It sits an " undoubted sovereign " in the sanctuary of the 
soul, with a delegated power from the hand of the Creator ; 
and while the other moral faculties are amenable to it, itself 
stands amenable to its own divine source. 

The early history of our colonies was distinguished by the 
doings of a sect which deified conscience, as it were. This 
" inner light " to them was the grand, central sun of the moral 
hemisphere, and the degree of man's illumination was in pro- 
portion to the extent to which he threw open the door of his 
soul, and let this light of heaven in. They gave to it the pre- 
rogative which belongs only to Him who made it. 

There is a sense in which it stands as the light of heaven to 
mortal man ; but we advert to moral distinctions only as pre- 
sumptive proof of the immortal destiny of man. 

All our ideas of the divine economy are contrary to the 
supposition that so precious a thing as this moral wealth 
should be wasted ; that God should regard it with such jealous 
care and tender interest if " an inch or two of time " was all it 
could boast. 

How idle to talk of the perfection of the moral nature if 
there be not another life. Perfect a thing for nonentity! It 
is absurd — we need not say it. Fitness of means to ends 
characterizes all God's works in Nature ; and shall there be 
lamentable disproportion in the highest part of creation? We 
trow not. Behold how richly God hath endowed the moral 
nature of man ; how strong a principle is Love — " stronger 
than death ; " therefore, in the struggle with the last enemy, 
shall not the victory belong to it ? 

What hath not Love wrought? Who can count up her 
deeds, and tell their influence upon a degenerate world? Who 
can gather up the broken hearts and bruised spirits she has 
bound up and cared for, number the desponding ones she has 
encouraged, the sad she has comforted, the degraded she 



CONQUESTS OF LOVE. 



71 



has raised, the outcasts she has reclaimed, and the prodigak 
she has made to return home in penitence? 

Who can measure the amount of those rich libations she has 
poured out for mankind in kind looks, soothing words, and 
beneficent acts, or estimate the value and power of those 
societies she has caused to be built upon her own true basis ? 
Ah, there are 

" tales of holy marvels done 
By strong affection, of deliverance won 
Through its prevailing power." 

Everything that is rich and rare, pure and holy, joyous and 
glad, has been used to symbolize this blessed principle of the 
moral world. Hence it is crowded by such expressions as 
these — "a talisman," "a priceless boon," "a gem," "a golden 
chain," "an inexhaustible mine," "a boundless ocean," "a ra- 
diant star," K a glorious sun," and " a thing of light." So, 
too, we speak of an " atmosphere of love," and of breezes that 
come laden with its messages, until we make it an all-pervad- 
ing thino;, — God-commissioned in its blessed work, — and 
heavenly in the spirit of its ministrations. It melts the 
hardest, and subdues the proudest ; it transforms the lion-like 
nature of man into one of lamb-like meekness, and makes 
wrath flee and anger quail. O Love ! 

" Thou word that sums all bliss, 

Gives and receives all bliss, fullest when most 
Thou givest ! spring-head of all felicity, 
Deepest when most is drawn ! emblem of God ! 
O'erfiowing most when greatest numbers drink." 

" The sparkling cream of all Time's blessedness." 

But, notwithstanding everything that is gentle and lovely is 
born of love, it still is the parent of the keenest sorrow. Our 
heaviest woes are cradled in her arms. These heart-wounds 
that never heal — from whence the life-drops ooze out clay by 
day until the fatal work is done — are inflicted by her. These 
things that send so many mourning down to the grave find 
their cause in the exquisite sensitiveness of loving natures. 



72 



MATERNAL LOVE. 



Could a voice come from many a grave, it might tell how 
Love crushed out the young life that was in them. Shall we, 
then, talk of the rich endowment of Nature? Yes ! if we can 
have immortality ; for then we have reason to believe there 
will be no more such contrarieties ; the vast capacity will be 
filled and satisfied with the perfect. 

These seeming contradictions, this close conjunction of sor- 
row and pleasure, these thorns which infest the roses, frosts 
which nip the bud, blight which settles so hopelessly upon fair 
prospects, and the secret process which undermines the struc- 
ture we had so confidently thought secure, — these things are 
not what we should have supposed God would have delighted 
in, had he placed us here to accomplish the whole of our 
mission, and make body and soul spend themselves together ; 
for this is not the way he acts with any of his creatures whose 
birth and burial Nature ministers unto. 

These things speak a disciplinary state, and betoken an ulti- 
mate — something. 

But to observe still further the dignity and grandeur of the 
human mincl, and the wealth of the human heart, we have 
only to regard things less abstractly, and become interested in 
the living exhibition of these delightful principles of moral 
action, that happily are not without the circle of our own vision. 

See the devoted mother as she bends over her unconscious 
charge, and notice how the ardor of maternal feeling, and the 
strength of maternal affection, beam from her eyes, and show 
themselves in every look and tone. 

The varying acts and scenes of after life bring no diminution 
of care and affection, but daily and nightly the flame burns 
undimmed upon the altar of her heart ; and, having attended 
her child to the confines of time, he passes from sight, while she 
turns in anguish of spirit to treasure his memory, and console 
herself with the hope that there is a spirit-land which will 
restore to her the loved when she, too, shall cease to tread 
the earth. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



73 



Strong, too, is filial affection. The loving child lives for its 
parents. To please, at whatever sacrifice, is counted the 
highest joy. The sports of childhood and the pleasures of 
later youth are enjoyed in proportion as they are shared by 
these loved counsellors, and it is his delight, as they go down 
the vale of life, tenderly to smooth the rugged way, and make 
it pleasant. This is one of the beautiful sights of earth, and 
another is that painted by the hand of fraternal love. What 
delicate touches, what beautiful shading, are here manifest ! 
what beautiful coloring is given to this part of life's picture ! 
And behold, a little apart, another group still — fast friends, 
full of confidence and sympathy, their souls awake to the 
same harmonies, and inspired with the same love. 

Every one yearns for a sympathizing spirit to beat in unison 
with its own. The heart is made for sympathy — it demands 
it ; the chords of the soul are so strung that they vibrate to its 
touch, making low, thrilling music to be heard within. The 
panacea for many an ill is found in sympathy, as those will 
testify whom it has met in grief and left in joy. 

Friendship, too, is so divine a thing that poets have never 
tired in singing its praises in flowing numbers. They have 
wreathed its form with their never-fading garlands, and 
challenged the world to produce anything of equal loveliness ; 
but its praises are not confined to any one class, to any rank 
or condition. It is seen in every walk of life, and it is only 
a pitiable few who know not what it is to be blessed with at 
least one faithful friend. Even the annals of the Pagan 
world furnish illustrious examples of this and other moral 
virtues. Who but knows of Damon and Pythias, — "the in- 
comparable pair," — who were bound so closely in the bonds of 
friendship that the welfare and honor of each were dearer to 
the other than life ? of Pegulus, who chose to become the victim 
of fearful suffering, and even of death itself, rather than to give 
his compatriots occasion to call his fidelity in question? of 
him who was called " The Just," and around whom every 
virtue was made to cluster with rare grace and beauty ? 



74 



EXAMPLES OF MORAL HEROISM. 



Generosity and benevolence come also, not with arrogant 
mien, but with modest story of deeds that make the world richer. 

A few years ago, a neighborhood in the south of France was 
visited with wasting disease. Frightened at the ravages it 
made, many of the inhabitants fled, leaving the sick to want 
for necessary care. A young lady at a distance, hearing of 
this sad state of things, left her own peaceful and healthy 
district, and, regardless of self, went among the sufferers, and 
day and night labored with unwearying assiduity to promote 
the comfort of the sick and sorrowing. Kind-hearted benevo- 
lence was the sole prompter of the self-sacrificing deed ; for she 
sought no reward, save the blessed consciousness of doing good, 
nor was there prospect of any other. She obtained what she 
least sought — a name and a place amid the bright galaxy 
of earth's honored ones. 

A poor girl in England once became interested in the 
miserable class of beings confined in prisons, and longed to do 
something for their elevation. By unremitting application 
she obtained admittance to forbidding dungeons, and gathering 
together the outcast flock, she taught them the nature of the 
blessed principles that ought to actuate human life, and won by 
the attractions of virtue as exhibited in her life and teachings, 
they looked up from their degradation, and began to think 
what it is to be a moral being. Moral influences were then 
started that are felt unto this day, both in that country and 
this, and will continue to be felt to all time. What in our 
own day makes the name of Florence Nightingale revered 
and honored wherever it is heard ? It is the moral power of 
her life, the beneficent character of her actions, that have given 
such transcendent lustre to her fame. It is her moral heroism 
that has gained such triumph, and written her name, as with 
the "point of a diamond," upon the imperishable tablets of 
human hearts. What a model of philanthropy was Howard ! 
What sublimity of character appears as he travels again and 
again through widely separated provinces, intent on his mission 



MISSIOXABY SELF-SACBIFICE. 



75 



of mercy — the elevation and amelioration of the children of 

misery wherever found, — 

" Inemulous of fame or -wealth, 
Profuse of toil and prodigal of health ! " 

It is true we find the noblest forms of virtue under the 
auspicious reign of Christianity. Paul was a notable example. 
The holy inspiration of his soul moved him to the patient suf- 
fering of almost every form of persecution, if so be he might 
promote the benefit of mankind, and secure that degree of 
moral and spiritual cultivation, which, in his estimation, was 
secondary to nothing. To him moral excellence was superior 
to everything else. The same spirit animates a noble band at 
the present day. Cherished hopes and fond friends are relin- 
quished, native country, with its ten thousand associations, 
abandoned for scenes of hardship and danger — for compan- 
ions not only uncongenial, but even savage in their nature. 

Lyman and Munson sacrificed their lives in this work. Wil- 
liams, the youthful missionary, fell a martyr to the cause in 
the wilds of Patagonia ; and so it might be said of many " of 
whom the world was not worthy." 

" Such characters afford powerful demonstrations of the sub- 
limity of virtue, of the activity of the human mind, and of its 
capacity for contributing to the happiness of fellow-intelligences 
to an unlimited extent." Can we imagine these powers — this 
capacity — to be forever extinguished by the stroke of death ? 
These desires for the elevation of mankind are meaningless, 
these efforts valueless, if there be no other life. 

Of what account is moral training, if the moral energies 
are to be forever swept away by the hand of the Destroying 
Angel? or of what avail to build up the moral edifice, if it 
must fall irrecoverably in the day of the body's dissolution ? 

The same reasons exist for the perpetuation of the moral as 
of the intellectual faculties. 

So limited is the sphere of action in this world, that free 
scope cannot be given to their action ; besides M the period 



76 



ARGUMENT FROM DIVINE WISDOM. 



within which the most energetic powers can be exerted is 
extremely limited. It is not before man has arrived near the 
meridian of life that his moral powers begin to be fully ex- 
panded ; and it frequently happens, in the case of ardent, 
benevolent characters, that, at the moment when their philan- 
thropic schemes are matured, and they have just commenced 
their career of beneficence, death interposes, and puts a period 
to all their labors and designs. 

"In the present state of the world, too, numerous physical 
obstructions interpose to prevent the exertion of the moral 
powers, even in the most ardent philanthropic minds. The 
want of wealth and influence ; the diseases of an enfeebled 
corporeal frame ; the impediments thrown in the way by malice 
and envy, and the political arrangements of states ; the diffi- 
culty of penetrating into every region of the globe where hu- 
man beings reside, and many other obstructions, — prevent the 
full exercise of that moral energy which resides in benevolent 
and heroic minds, and confine its operations within a narrow 
span. But can we ever suppose, in consistency with divine 
wisdom and benevolence, that God has implanted in the human 
constitution benevolent active powers which are never to be 
fully expanded, and that those godlike characters that have 
occasionally appeared on the theatre of our world are never 
to reappear on the field of action, to expatiate, in the full 
exercise of their moral powers, in the ample career of immor- 
tality ? To admit such a supposition would be in effect to call 
in question his wisdom and intelligence. It is the part of wis- 
dom to proportionate means to ends, and to adapt the faculties 
of any being to the scene in which it is to operate. But here 
we behold a system of powers which can never be brought 
into fall operation in the present state ; and therefore, if death 
is to put a final termination to the activity of man, the mighty 
powers and energies with which he is endowed have been be- 
stowed in vain, and we are led to conceive of the Divine Being 
as deficient in wisdom and intelligence in his government of 
the intellectual beings he has formed." 



BE TBIB TJTION INCOMBLETE HEBE. 77 



But, as we look over the works of God's creation, we con- 
tinually stop to admire the beauty of that system which indi- 
cates universal benevolence. It is not necessary to attempt 
any illustration of this. It requires but little discrimina- 
tion to see it, for it is made so plain that "those who run 
may read," and those who read cannot fail to understand. We, 
then, naturally ascribe benevolence to the Being who controls 
the natural world ; and is he not as truly King of the moral 
realm, and therefore regardful of his moral subjects? 

The current of this world's affairs, the whole of human life, 
with its varied experiences, lead us irresistibly to the conclu- 
sion that they are directed and superintended with a view to 
moral retribution. Yet man reaches the last stage of his 
earthly career feeling that he has not wholly realized it. Com- 
eth it not, then, in an after life? What of those characters 
distinguished for high attainments in virtue and goodness, who 
labored incessantly, with such disinterestedness of purpose, for 
the good of others? Was it that they might be the more 
splendid wrecks ? Bather, was there not something within them 
which assured their souls that when the Great Teacher should 
dismiss them from their preparatory school, he avouIcI call them 
to a higher sphere, — a broader and nobler field of action, — 
where the moral powers would find the development they could 
not find anywhere, or under any circumstances, on earth? 

Ah ! there is reason to conclude that these characters, sub- 
ject to such varied discipline in the terrestrial state, will attain 
their utmost desire in the celestial — that state where the imper- 
fect will become perfect, and the incomplete put on a form 
of completion. There are, at least, whispers in Nature that 
tell us that these buds of virtue, which find such tardy growth, 
and scarce open here in this ungenial clime, will yet blossom 
and expand in a more genial soil, and under an atmosphere of 
purer elements. 

Yes ! these moral powers bespeak another life. We would 
fain believe these moral energies shall find free scope, not for 



78 



CONTINUANCE OF MORAL POWERS. 



a little season, but for a limitless one, and that those spirits 
of whom we have spoken, who were influenced by a burning 
zeal for truth and right on earth, are now advancing in moral 
beauty and perfection, in unfettered and tireless action ; for, 
says Fordyce, "we may conclude, from analogy, that man is 
destined for an after-part, and is to be produced upon a more 
august and solemn stage, where his sublimer powers shall have 
proportioned action, and his nature attain its completion." 



SPHERE OF CONSCIENCE. 



79 



CHAPTER V. 

FOREB ODDvTGS OF RETRIBUTION. 

Sphere of Conscience. — Belshazzar. — Testimony from Profane History. 
— Webster, the Murderer. — Moral Convictions answering to Moral 
Laws. — Society without Virtue. — Force of Moral Obligation. — Ten- 
dency toward Perfection. — Its Indications. 

" Conscience, in some awful, silent hour, 
When captivating lusts have lost their power, 
Starts from the down, on which she lately slept, 
And tells of laws despised, at least not kept ; 
Shows, with a pointing finger, but no noise, 
A pale procession of past, sinful joys ; 
All witnesses of blessings foully scorned, 
And life abused, and, not to be suborned ; 
Mark these, she says ; these, summoned from afar, 
Begin their march to meet thee at the bar ; 
There find a Judge inexorably just, 
And perish there, as all presumption must." — Cowper. 

If the restless desires and aspirations of the mind, its bound- 
less capacity, and the existence and exercise of the moral 
powers, indicate a coining life, so do the forebodings and 
apprehensions of the natural heart shadow forth the same truth. 
Intellect, in its sphere, points the soul to truth, and bids it 
observe the beauty of its form and the excellence of its teach- 
ings, while conscience, the moral agent, as steadily fixes the 
attention upon duty and the eternal laws of right and wrong. 

Never does man find himself arraigned before the tribunal 
of his own conscience to answer to the ten thousand charges it 
brings against him, without it suggesting the possibility, at 
least, of another court, — another Judge, — where the claims of 
justice will be faithfully presented, carefully weighed, and duly 



80 



SPHERE OF CONSCIENCE. 



settled. The Great Lawgiver — the Eternal Judge -—-hath 
written laws and principles on the statute-book of mind, and 
given a moral sense of the fitness of these to the interests of 
practical life, coupling with it a feeling of obligation, indiffer- 
ence to which insures uneasiness and misery, and a "certain 
fearful looking for of judgment," to be pronounced against those 
who habitually and wilfully come short of this acknowledged 
rightful standard. We are subjects of a moral government, 
and, as such, are bound to observe the conditions of subjects. 
So inwoven is this moral sense into the very constitution of our 
being, we cannot be reckless of these conditions without feeling 
in our own souls a secret condemnation or dread of fearful 
visitation in some way or other. 

The peremptory voice of right is always sounding in the 
ear, Obey, or suffer; and when this admonition is unheeded—- 
positively disregarded — the shrinking spirit cowers before even 
the harmless objects that surround it. Fear hovers around 
like a spectre, and imagination discovers the sound of the 
chariot wheels of vengeance, though it be not yet sent on its 
way. It matters not if the deed or action be concealed from 
the eye of man, and circumstances still favor its concealment ; 
there is yet a trembling dread and apprehension of coming 
evil that fills the soul with terror. Such a one sees his path 
hedged up by eager pursuers for the guilty ; accusing voices 
fill the air, and, turn which way he will, there is but one sound 
that greets him — The guilty must be punished. He is 
haunted by day, and the shadows of night only increase his 
anguish, for Reflection is daughter of the night, and she in- 
sists that the record of deeds shall be well reviewed. He seeks 
in vain to elude the gaze and avoid the presence of this faithful 
monitress ; but wherever he goes, though it be to a remote and 
solitary cell, he finds himself doomed to the companionship of 
this reprover. He would fain remove himself from the sound 
of reproaches ; but, unable to do it, despair settles upon him, 
and he falls a prey to the pangs of remorse. 



ALARM OF BELSHAZZAB. 



81 



The pages of history, both ancient and modern, afford abun- 
dant examples of this kind ; and what shall we say of unwritten 
history — the woes and wailings which have never been record- 
ed save by the Angel whom the A.hnighty Historian hath 
commissioned to prepare the volume to be opened at the 
last? 

Is it not enough to suggest the idea of retribution ? What 
but this agitated the mind of the impious monarch, to whom 
appeared the " hand writing on the wall," making his knees to 
smite together in the wild intensity of fear ? What though he 
had desecrated the holy temple and appropriated the sacred 
things to an unhallowed purpose ; filling the golden cups with 
the sparkling draught for his own profane lips, and those of his 
friends ; enhancing the sumptuousness of the convivial board 
by the splendid array of these costly vessels? Why should 
such sudden terror change his countenance and trouble his 
heart ? Was it the fear of man ? A " thousand of his lords " 
were about him, pledged to guard the life and support the 
honor of their king. Surely it could not be this ; neither was 
it that he had calmly thought of his course, until it had as- 
sumed its true aspect in his eyes, for reflection had found 
no opportunity to remind him of the full extent of his crime. 

He was revelling amid the luxuries of a splendid entertain- 
ment ; art and wealth combined to intoxicate, and pleasure to 
drown the voice of expostulation. Was it that he saw in the 
fearful words before him his real doom, and his proud spirit 
could not brook the sentence ? " Mene : " must this be so — my 
reign at an end — my kingdom finished ? " Tekel : " must the 
world know it, my princes, my nobles, and my subjects, and 
I be taunted with the story of my inglorious fall, forever? 
" Peres : " my glory is departed — a gift to mine enemies ; and 
how can I bear the humiliating change? Were these the 
thoughts that rushed through the mind of the king, as he 
looked upon the mysterious characters traced upon the wall? 
No ! he knew nothing at all of their awful import. Those 
6 



82 



REMORSE OF ANTIOCEUS. 



words fraught with such terrible meaning were as yet a sealed 
mystery to him : he knew it not ; but deep in his soul was the 
consciousness of wrong-doing — that he had been guilty of most 
sacrilegious impiety ; and it was this that made him apprehen- 
sive of evil, and awoke his forebodings of swift and merited 
retribution ; that made him turn from the scene, pale with af- 
fright, with no other thought but that " the judgments of heaven 
are coming, and hoiv can I be shielded?" 

In the annals of profane history no name stands higher on 
the lists of impiety and crime than Antiochus Epiphanes. 
Thousands of people fell victims simply to his inhuman thirst 
for blood ; nor was he satisfied with a death of ordinary suffer- 
ing. Every species of cruelty that his wicked ingenuity could 
devise was most unmercifully perpetrated upon innocent multi- 
tudes. Destruction was in his path. Towns and cities were 
plundered, burned, and swept from existence. If he saved a 
remnant of people, they were to observe his religion and gods, 
or the most severe penalties awaited them. He dedicated 
the temple at Jerusalem to Jupiter Olympus, and set up his 
own statue upon the altar from whence had gone up the 
incense of holy offerings, and those who refused to pay 
homage to his self-constituted god he subjected to the most 
cruel tortures, nor ceased until death terminated their woes, 
unless he could gain a compliance with his infernal wishes. It 
is too painful to recall his repeated crimes. They reached 
their culmination in the death of the seven brothers, — the 
Maccabees, — who, with their mother, were barbarously put to 
death simply for their refusal to eat the flesh of swine, which 
their law forbade. He was arrested in the midst of his cursed 
work by a disease of terrific character. His bodily sufferings 
were intense, but they were not to be compared with the agony 
of that spirit that looked forth from the decaying and falling 
tenement, shrieking for deliverance from those reproachful 
sounds that filled his ears. In his delirium a thousand forms 
stood before him, charging him with crimes ; and in this 
wretched, fearing, miserable state 5 he died. 



ANXIETY OF PROFESSOR WEBSTER. 83 



Thus we might produce a long list. We might speak of 
Charles IX. of France, whose name is associated with all the 
terrors of the Bartholomew massacre ; of William the Con- 
queror, whose closing life was rendered so intolerable bj the 
thought that he was going to meet the sentence the evils of 
sixty-four years demanded ; of Richard III. , whose insatiable 
ambition sent his royal nephews to their grave, and how the 
act was followed by a life-long fear of vengeance ; of Nero, of 
Domitian, and a host of others, whose notorious acts were 
always followed by these wretched fears of what should happen 
to them in consequence. 

But we spare these painful recitals. We forbear further 
mention of these ancient dead. We cannot know the reality 
of their fate. We have to do with the power and office-work 
of conscience, and are to rest with these intimations until a 
more perfect knowledge shall bring a clearer light and greater 
certainty. 

We need go no farther than the pages of our weekly journals 
to find facts illustrative of this point, and possibly not out of 
the circle of our own observation ; yea, our own consciences 
tell us, in unmistakable language, of a time of judgment. 
The record is yet comparatively fresh in the history of Massa- 
chusetts, of that gifted man who left the high walks of literary 
and social life for a home in the prison-cell, and a death on the 
gibbet. Ere suspicion rested upon him, before men had even 
dreamed that the man of genius had stooped so low, his soul 
was disquieted with harassing fears, and imagination became a 
demon of anxiety to him. His nightly rest was disturbed by 
visions of those who branded him as a murderer, and through 
all the hours of the day an impending cloud seemed ready to 
break upon his head. The innocent tread of officers and 
students past his room was as the footsteps of so many angry 
pursuers for their victim. Every attempt to gain admittance 
through his barred door was as if the bolts of justice had been 
loosened from their place, that they might be hurled against 



84 ANGUISH OF A CELEBBA TED ACTBE88. 



him. He kindled the fire of the chemist, that every trace of 
his guilt might be consumed ; but he built a fire in his soul 
that was hotter and stronger than this. He brought scientific 
mixtures to his aid, that no fatal drop — no significant stain — 
should silently but surely proclaim the foul deed. 

His scrupulous care did not prevent this ; but, supposing it 
had been successful, could mixture of human preparation ever 
have erased it from his memory and conscience ? Never was 
the anguish of his mind -- the upbraiding of his conscience — 
keener and louder than while it was unknown to the world ; 
when it rankled, a secret in his own breast. And why? Ah ! 
there was a solemn why in his own soul : he found it in the 
gaze of the Omniscient — the dread of his ire. 

But these fearful apprehensions are not incident merely to 
giants in wickedness — to those who provoke the justice of 
Heaven by daring deeds of impiety and sin. How many 
amiable ones, so called, who run the giddy round of fashiona- 
ble pleasure, gay and smiling, apparently light-hearted and 
joyous, who, if they should lay aside the veil that covers their 
hearts, would show them ill at ease, and all for the fear of a 
something to come! The gayest worldling has confessed to 
many a bitter tear for the same reason. Scores, in many a 
pleasure-seeking circle, would tell, if they divulged the truth, 
how their most exquisite enjoyments were embittered by this 
same thought. 

A celebrated actress once gathered about her a troop of ad- 
mirers, exciting the jealousy of some, the envy of more, because 
of her peerless charms, and great success wherever she went. 
That favored being, as she was called, might have been seen 
at night, in her own room, apart from the glitter of parade, 
the sound of flattery, and the worshipping crowd, not congrat- 
ulating herself upon the brilliancy of her career, the brightness 
of her fame, and extent of her popularity, but weeping, sor- 
rowing, and trembling, under the influence of remorse, which 
pointed to a day of reckoning, when she would desire more 



LAW OF MOBAL RETRIBUTION. 



85 



than the adulation of a crowd to insure satisfaction. This is 
the history of many, as midnight revelations would abundantly 
testify ; but night treasures the secrets intrusted to her keeping, 
and we know only of those who, finding such confidence in- 
sufficient, come into the light, and proclaim their need of wider 
sympathy and more substantial good. The devotees of pleas- 
ure and fashion, those who engage with the most ardor in all 
they have to offer, are yet conscious that they possess a higher 
nature which it is important they should regard ; and would this 
consciousness exist were it a "baseless fabric of a vision," an 
airy nothing ? Were there no life beyond this, we might pursue 
the whole round of sensual delights, and spend all our energies 
in mere physical gratification, with no compunctions of con- 
science ; indeed, where would be the necessity for the workings 
of this agent at all ? 

We should find ourselves in possession of this most sensi- 
tive faculty only that our souls might be tortured and our 
spirits lacerated to no purpose ; and how could we reconcile 
this with what reason teaches us of the character of a benevo- 
lent God? In such a case we might reap all of earth we chose, 
until, weary and worn out with the labor, we should lie down 
in the dust, as now ; but it would matter no more to us than to 
the senseless grains about us what the history of the past had 
been, or what the character of our actions. As it is, we cannot 
plunge into scenes of folly and dissipation — we cannot trifle 
away our time in frivolous amusement — without the warning 
sounding in our ears, "Know thou that for all these things 
God will bring thee into judgment ; " and this was a saying 
uttered before Christ had opened the doors of immortality, and 
set the doctrine above a reasonable doubt. 

In how many instances have the closing hours of life been 
filled with deep and unavailing regret because the past had 
been so little improved — yielded so little that was truly worthy ; 
for man, as we have said, instinctively and reverently acknowl- 
edges the superiority of moral excellence, especially if he sees 



86 



CONFESSIONS OF INFIDELS. 



its living exemplification. Even the most ignorant and super- 
stitious in all time have had an idea that well-doing merits and 
will receive commendation, while its opposite is blameworthy, 
and will receive its due also. This but confirms what was 
said at the commencement of this chapter — that the moral per- 
ceptions implanted in the human constitution may be consid- 
ered as having the force of moral laws, proceeding from the 
Author of all law ; that the difference between right and wrong- 
in action is eternal and unchangeable, and every moral agent 
is endowed with a faculty that enables him to see, feel, and 
appreciate it. 

Now, we say these things indicate immortality ; that these 
moral powers seem to contain the elements of everlasting life ; 
that they will find their fullest display in a different theatre 
than this. They are the most vigorous in the hour of death; 
but if man were mortal he could have nothing to fear, not even 
the vengeance of the Almighty. Infidels, standing at a fan- 
cied distance from death, have declaimed confidently of anni- 
hilation, and scorned the idea of moral accountability; but as 
they have neared the boundary of time they have experienced 
a keenness of moral perception that has awakened them to an 
instinctive dread of the future, and made them the unwitting 
if not willing confessors of this manifest truth. 

Said one of this class, "I have often wished for insanity — 
for anything to quell memory, the never-dying worm that feeds 
on my heart." 

" So writhes the mind remorse hath riven." 

But is this mental disquietude consistent with the professed be- 
lief of infidels ? Are these terrors of conscience — these fore- 
bodings of the future — at all compatible with their doctrine ? 
It is a contradiction for such to speak of a " never-dying worm." 
Their whole theory is opposed to all such considerations. 

"When the candle has burned out, we cannot relight it ; and 
thus they speculate concerning life. If they admit the parti- 
cles of their own mysterious structure to be indestructible, 



RETRIBUTION NECESSARY TO SOCIETY. 



87 



they deny that any part of their being retains consciousness ; 
and of what consequence can it be to them what becomes of 
these inanimate particles, — whether they are in darkness of 
greater or less intensity, or are scattered in realms of corre- 
sponding light ? To waste fear upon this account would be the 
height of folly. 

Let infidelity talk as it may, there is a wide difference be- 
tween theory and practice in the lives of its followers. They 
profess to have an admirable superstructure upon a permanent 
basis ; but every tempest excites their alarm, every change in 
the heavens makes them tremble. 

They denounce faith in future existence as fanaticism, and 
yet are strangely solicitous in a certain hour to know if faith 
will really be lost in sight a little later ; if there be, after all, 
an emerging into another state, a rising into a new life ; what 
shall be characteristic of it, and what the manner of transfor- 
mation. 

Were we to imagine a state of things in harmony with the 
sceptic's professed belief, society would at once be presented to 
us as composed of the wildest, rudest, and most ungovernable 
elements possible. Were there really no hope of a future life 
— no fear of moral retribution — there would be no restraint 
to the indulgence of the vilest passions. Man is more prone 
to vice than to virtue. He requires strong inducements to the 
cultivation and practice of the latter. Remove the influence 
of fear and hope, as connected with future existence, from him 
entirely, and you sweep away a mighty barrier, if not every bar 
in the ways of sin and folly, leaving nothing to oppose their 
resistless march. There would be no check to selfishness. It 
would be the personal aim of all to secure the accomplishment 
of their own schemes, the gratification of their own desires, 
at whatever hazard. 

There would be nothing to lessen "man's inhumanity to 
man ; " and in their intercourse with each other, justice and 
prudence would be unmeaning terms. There would be scarcely 



88 



MORAL DISORDERS. 



room for the play of the benevolent and social affections, and 
the moral virtues would be an anomaly in the world. Disorder 
and confusion would reign supreme, and earth present only a 
scene of anarchy and woe. So fast would everything die out 
of the social and moral nature under such influences as these, 
that we do not think it so strange they talk of annihilation, for, 
there would be nothing left worth living for. 

Then, though the scoffer and the sceptic continue in their 
course, it shall only confirm us in the conclusion that there is 
another life, to which we are tending. We incline to the 
thought that if " order " be the ?f first law " of Him who made 
the world, in its construction it shall not be less observable 
in the intelligent part of his creation. 

We say not there are no moral disorders in the world. 
Every page of history would contradict such an assertion. 
The thousand times ten thousand acts in the present drama 
of life would rise to assert its falsity. Myriad voices from 
past and present would tell how avarice, injustice, and revenge 
had held sway among men ; how war had desolated the earth ; 
jealousies alienated people from each other, involving individ- 
uals and nations in hostile feuds ; and superstition and cruelty 
engendered discord and bitter animosities anions; multitudes 
of the human race. The malevolent passions are often trium- 
phant ; malice and oppression do their dreadful work, blasting 
the fairest portions of the moral heritage ; and pride and haughti- 
ness put on their defiant looks to trouble the meek and timid. 

Fraud stalks forth on her extortionate errands, and Dis- 
honesty slyly carries out her illegal plans. Anger, hate, and 
treachery have all added their portion to the fearful mixture, 
seriously disturbing the happiness and general welfare of man- 
kind. Both the sensitive and intellectual enjoyments of men 
have been sadly marred by the prevalence and indulgence of 
these unholy passions. 

Every period of the world's history bears too plainly the 
marks of this unhappy confusion ; and some, looking at these 



CONSCIENCE DEMANDS PERFECTION. 



89 



things alone, have settled down upon the idea of inevitable 
moral bankruptcy. But does evil preponderate? Does vice 
strengthen her bands, and ride over virtue ? " Does the law of 
morality alone answer no purpose in the universe which God 
has made ? " 

"The manifold arrangements and beautiful contrivances, 
I . 

with which the purely material universe abounds, all subserve 
important ends, and in these ends we read the purposes of their 
Contriver. Each has its part to play in upholding the fabric 
of that universe of which it is a portion, and we know it was 
designed to fill that part ; " and shall not the " law of right, with 
the consciousness of it which animates every human breast," 
also perform the part for which it was designed, in its sphere ? 

It is true we are compelled to admit the existence of a long 
catalogue of moral evils ; but there is a broad view to be taken 
of these things, and the Christian philosopher, while he deeply 
deplores their spread, sees arise from these very things the 
germ of a new and immortal existence. The God who so 
delights in harmony in the material world will ultimately 
produce the same in the moral world. Perfection is the 
law of conscience — the standard the divine Lawgiver has 
erected ; and surely there will be some theatre for the part to 
be enacted. As it is, this law is certainly a restraining and 
regulating force in society ; it speaks a divine government, to 
which man is, and ever must be, eternally subject. 

Moral woes are abroad, we know, but it is a sense of moral 
obligation that keeps society from being a perfect chaos, so that 
we may discover in all, if we will, "not merely the filaments 
of order, but a closely-woven web covered with a uniform and 
glorious pattern." Says a modern writer, to those unskilled 
in " finding the key which converts an apparent maze into an 
harmonious and well-proportioned plan, there are not only 
many anomalies, but seeming lawlessness and confusion" in 
many of these things : " the moral world, the history of the 
individual, of nations, and of the race, seems to present a mere 



90 



PROBLEM OF EVIL SOLVED. 



jumble of events, the blind goddess of fortune distributing the 
parts, and allotting at random to each performer the measure 
of good and evil in this life which he is fated to receive. But 
study this maze by the aid of the eternal principles of right 
and wrong, which are enthroned in every heart ; strive to go 
behind the external trappings of prosperity and adversity, to 
count the hours of real, not merely seeming, enjoyment, or, in 
other words, to explore the private history of every man, as 
well as the story of his outer and public life, and the confusion 
will clear away almost as fully as in the case of the physical 
universe. I say * almost as fully ; ' for it cannot be denied 
that the problem is more complicated in its very nature ; the 
material universe, in all its large features, presents to us ex- 
clusively the picture of God's doings ; the moral world, so far 
as it is visible to our eyes, shows the union of man's action 
with that of his Maker. God still governs, and that absolutely ; 
but through moral, not mechanical means. Human free-will 
is allowed a large theatre on which to develop itself, and the 
results are necessarily more complex and intricate than when 
divine agency alone is exerted. Still the government prevails, 
order reigns, eternal laws are prescribed and enforced, and the 
purposes of the Almighty are carried out. In the distribution 
of bodily and mental health and disease ; in the conditions of 
what is called success in life ; in the secret contentment and joy 
which wait on the unostentatious fulfilment of ordinary duties, 
and in the glow and exaltation of feeling which accompany and 
reward a great apparent sacrifice for the right ; in the institu- 
tions of society, and the sympathies of mankind, which aim 
directly to encourage the good and to punish the evil doer, — in 
these and many other circumstances I see all the grand fea- 
tures of a comprehensive plan, wisely contrived and efficiently 
carried out, to win men to the practice of virtue, and to punish 
every violation of the moral law. If, in a few cases, I behold 
apparent exceptions to the rule, or am not able to trace the 
workings of the plan, I do but follow the ordinary principles of 



RELIEF INDICATED. 



91 



scientific method and inductive logic in maintaining, with full, 
assured belief, that a more complete knowledge of the circum- 
stances would show that the scheme operates even here, the 
seeming anomalies being, in truth, its most beautiful exemplifi- 
cations. If a planet on the outer verge of our system shows 
perturbations, for which, according to our present knowledge 
of that system, the law of gravity will not account, I do not 
therefore conclude that the law is suspended in this single case, 
but rather wait with firm trust for the progress of discovery to 
point out some still exterior orb, as yet invisible to mortal eyes, 
the action of which w T ill explain the seeming disturbance, and 
make the law appear as universal as it is wise." 

We must conclude, notwithstanding seeming disorder and 
confusion, that order exists in all God's ways and plans, and 
that man, his noblest work, will be perfected somewhere — if 
not in this, in some other state. With such a thought the 
discipline of life assumes meaning ; without it, and without 
any such prospect, we sink to the level of mere animal existence ; 
yea, even lower, for that in its sphere is perfect, accomplishing 
a perfect design, while with man it is the reverse. 

Admitting this conclusion, we look to the time when the 
moral evils of the world will be rectified ; when the intelligent 
universe will be restored to harmony and happiness, and all 
the confusion necessarily incident to this disciplinary state will 
be resolved into harmonious proportion and beautiful design ; 
when all that appears dark to the present understanding will 
be contemplated as part of one grand system that is to run 
parallel with the ages of eternity, and when all the attributes 
of the divine character shadowed forth in his works shall 
be fully displayed. 

The evidence that comes from the depths of our moral 
nature proclaims, at least, the probability of this ; for this keen- 
ness of perception, this foreboding of retribution, have each a 
tongue to tell that they have undying elements, upon which death 
and the grave have no power. Were this not so, we might 



92 



PERMANENCY OF DIVINE TRUTH. 



roam the earth, and need no more than mere animal instinct to 
meet every emergency, and satisfy every want ; but here we 
have an innate sense of right, as a prompter and guide to action 
— so strong as to have the force of law ; and things would be 
inexplicable and irreconcilable unless we suppose man is in a 
state of probation, destined to another scene of existence — to 
be an actor under another and more perfect administration 
than this. 

We may, indeed, conceive of a state of society where virtue 
would be wooed, loved, and wedded for its own sake ; but if 
we suppose this, we must conceive also a different race of 
beings from that which now inhabits the earth, for all our 
present knowledge would be inapplicable, the basis whereon 
we stand would be swept away, and we should have nothing 
left but an indefinable ideal, or necessity for a new creation, 
with very little reason to hope for the interposition of the 
Divine Artificer to aid in fashioning models after our own 
miserable patterns. 

If things are not just as we, in our short-sightedness, would 
have them, how much better to take them as they are, than to 
risk the " chaos and dire confusion " which we should inevi- 
tably bring on ourselves by a fancied change ! Thus they must 
be taken — rather they must remain thus, for the counsels of 
eternal truth shall stand, and the mouldings of God's house 
shall be everlastingly fixed, whatever change the haughtiness 
of man may suggest. 

Whatever may be the opinions and attempts of the latter, 
whatever paths he would open for the present and mark out 
for the future, we would turn from them all to the sure adum- 
brations of truth and immortality which the Divine Author has 
traced for us in the great volume of Nature ; and this great 
book " has been the music of gentle and pious minds in all 
ages : it is the tendency of all human nature to read in it a 
figurative sense, and to find therein correspondences and sym- 
bols of the spiritual world." 



TEACHINGS OF NATURE. 



93 



CHAPTER VI. 

INEQUALITIES OF THE PRESENT LIFE. 

Teachings of Nature. — Character of God. -— Virtue and Vice unrewarded 
here. — Waldensian Persecution. — Scenes in the Reign of Louis Four- 
teenth. — ■ Days of Martyrdom. — Mysterious Providences. — Life appar- 
ently a Season of Discipline. 

" This life is all checkered with pleasures and woes, 
That chase one another like waves of the deep, 
Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows, 

Reflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep." — Moore. 

A very few in this world, by the adjustment of self-imposed 
scales upon their organs of vision, have affirmed that they have 
never seen the evidence of a God in what others have been 
wont to call a divine transcript, radiant with meaning, and 
full of plain fact to this very end. They have looked into the 
great book of Nature, where every page speaks of its Divine 
Author, and their sight has been so dim, that they have failed to 
see, or, seeing, refused to receive, the evidence of their senses, 
and so gone on wilfully blind to the grandest conceivable 
expressions of beauty and truth that could come before the 
gaze of man on earth. 

It is only a few, however, that are able to resist the force of 
the mighty arguments that meet them on every hand ; only a 
few that can look at the complicated structure of the human 
system, observing the nice adjustment, the harmony and adap- 
tation of every part, without acknowledging a power and skill, 
of wondrous origin, attributable to no known source, and 
therefore above and beyond all they know in any being like 
themselves. 



94 



TEACHINGS OF NATURE. 



Such design and such contrivance must belong to some 
superior being ; and when is superadded the weight of evidence 
from the external world, the conviction is overwhelming, and 
the majority of mankind cry out, "There is a God." Mind 
would trace out his character ; and, as in human life the 
characteristics of a man are seen in the efforts of his genius, 
his method of action, so also do we take these divine exhibi- 
tions as a transcript of the character of this Being. Reason 
then asserts, that He who caused this grand display — who 
wrought and fashioned so glorious a scheme, so perfect a 
model — should have it under his own immediate control, and 
subject to his pleasure and disposal. 

Any plan of action He might see fit to adopt would unques- 
tionably be his right, and the principles which move him in 
the administration of his government such as no one could 
question until he could establish claims to higher wisdom and 
deeper design. 

The management of the elements of nature, in connection 
with and adaptation to the wants and welfare of man, indicate 
the action of infinite benevolence, while other things show that 
justice is not less a trait of the divine character. That perfect 
harmony exists in the creative mind is a conclusion very easily 
attained, for the proofs of this are beautifully apparent ; and 
thus all God's attributes are traced out by the eye of reason ; 
indeed it is all that man can know until some revelation is 
made ; and it is enough to show God's character, and to deduce 
some just ideas of his government, for laws are types of the 
disposition of rulers — in no case more than with Him who is 
the great Prototype of all law. 

Although it be comparatively easy to trace out the attributes 
of God, and the nature of his government, from the considera- 
tion of his works, and his dealings with men, it is not so easy 
to go farther, and decide upon their ultimate destiny. 

All that we can know of future existence here is what we 
might naturally suppose a Being of such attributes, of such 



CHARACTER OF GOD. 



95 



character, would, in all probability, prepare for his subjects. 
Justice and rectitude, if we may so speak, are qualities of his 
nature ; and we therefore look for the incorporation of these 
elements into the laws whereby he governs his creatures, and 
suppose that the joint inscriptions of these upon the tablets of 
the universe, and of the human heart, speak an importance of 
no slight moment — that they stand, and will continue to stand, 
everlasting memorials of everlasting minds. 

But we do not find these principles wholly carried out in this 
life. Virtue does not always meet its reward, nor vice its pun- 
ishment, and we are led to think the fullest display is reserved, 
and instead of the triumph being witnessed by people upon the 
shores of time, it will be seen on the other side. 

The divine character would be robbed of much of the beauty 
that reason sees in it, to suppose that this world is the only 
scene of rewards and punishments ; for it would imply a strange 
partiality, and detract altogether from the regal majesty she 
had enthroned there. It would be like sweeping away the 
foundation-stone to a building, leaving the superstructure to 
totter and fall. In both cases, amazed beholders might weep 
over the ruins ; but, while in one instance order might be easily 
restored, in the other no possible agency could prevent con- 
fusion. No ! introduce disorder where we may, the attributes 
of God and the principles of his government are eternally 
sure ; and yet, as we have said, the equity of his administra- 
tion is by no means observable if we limit it to time. Hence 
the inequalities of life must aiford an argument for a future 
state. 

Virtue is born of God — He delights in it ; and yet how 
often do we see the poor pilgrim at its shrine conversant with 
every form of suffering, bending beneath the burden of his 
woes, while every step in his course only seems to add to its 
weight ! and this not for once, but through successive years, 
is his constant portion. 

Trustful and patient, he bears his accumulated ills, always 



96 



INCOMPLETE EE WARDS HERE. 



hoping for light to illumine the darkness, until the last drop of 
oil is spent in the lamp of life, and he expires ; but of such we 
are wont to say, He shall have his reward. 

God will not suffer the child of his love to be eternally 
trampled under foot. And we conclude that virtue, like truth, 
if "crushed to earth shall rise again,"— lifted by a mighty 
hand, that will tenderly bind each bleeding wound when the 
feverish system will allow its perfect close. 

In multitudes of instances, virtue has gone through life unre- 
warded, while vice and wrong have revelled in prosperity, and 
known every species of luxury. A case comes to mind — only 
one of a numberless list. 

In a certain city, and on its principal street, may be seen a 
large building, the front of which shows the taste, wealth, and 
industry of its owner. The various wares upon exhibition 
show an extensive interest in trade ; nor is it a false intima- 
tion. Success has crowned all his endeavors. And now ships 
from the seas, and engines on land, pour their treasures into 
his overflowing coffers. No clouds appear in his sky; on the 
contrary, only the undimmed brightness of prosperity ; and all 
this while he is actuated by a selfish devotion, that makes him 
unmindful of God's claims, and indifferent to the obligations 
of piety and virtue. Even the Sabbath is secretly unwelcome, 
because of the transient interruption of his business engage- 
ments ; and the holy convocation is turned, in effect, to a scene 
of merchandise. Still the song of the dawning week is success, 
and the years are ushered in by new columns for his book of 
gain, and new calls to strengthen and enlarge the bands which 
encircle his spreading treasures. An obscure garret in this 
building is rented to a poor, lone woman, who has seen, one 
by one, the friends of her youth desert her, and like a solitary 
tree the tempest has spared, living on till the "Lord of the 
vineyard" shall order its prostration for his own purposes. 
She remains to fill out the remnant of her days. Her physical 
system has long since ceased to feel the inspiration of healthful 



THE NOBLEST VICTORIES. 



97 



feeling, and her body is oftentimes weary and wasting, 
because the demands of want are unheeded. While the cheer- 
ful gas and the glowing anthracite are lessening the cold and 
darkness below, a simple taper gleams upon her fireless hearth, 
around which she gathers, thanking God for this. While the 
thoughtless man daily sits at his sumptuous board, the lone 
woman has often nothing to place upon her humble table, and 
never unless charity has provided the morsel. The four walls 
of her narrow apartment witness the daily exercises of a hearty, 
God-fearing, God-trusting spirit. She strives, amid every 
privation, to retain the integrity of life untarnished, while the 
other minds not, cares not, though frequent spots sully the 
garments about him. 

This is no fancy sketch. Some may say it is an extreme 
case ; but who does not know that life is full of instances 
like this ? showing an unequal distribution of reward, and con- 
sequently intimating that a perfect God will vindicate his ways, 
and show complete justice in another life, if it is not shown 
in this. 

There are thousands of humble, virtuous people who tread 
the vale of poverty all their lives long, but are actuated by the 
noblest motives, and controlled by the purest principles, that 
can govern intelligent men. Their secret histories, if written, 
would show conflicts with, and victories over, contending pas- 
sions, that are braver and nobler conquests than the taking of 
cities. Their ambition is to master the foes that appear in battle 
array on the moral field ; their coveted distinction, to meet the 
approval of the sovereign of this realm — Conscience ; and they 
wreathe no laurels about their brows but such as are won by 
high and holy endeavor in the arena of truth and right. 

In social and friendly intercourse, they are guided by the 
strictest rules of justice and benevolence, and all their actions 
show an unselfish regard for others ; and yet these often have 
less of ease, comfort, pleasure, and real good, if we look at 
things merely in a temporal light, than the throng of tyrannical, 
7 



98 



WALDENSIAN PERSECUTION. 



selfish, thoughtless class of men, who have no relish for the 
moral virtues, and live in the constant neglect and abuse of 
them. These maybe surrounded by favorites, by the splendor 
and luxury of a palace, by all that wealth and station can give, 
and live only to devise new schemes of iniquity, and execute 
their diabolical plans in perfect security from human punish- 
ment. They may invade communities, and carry desolation to 
a thousand peaceful circles ; may plunder provinces, and waste 
the heritage of a peaceable people, and, what is worse, mur- 
der, unmindful of the cries of the innocent and helpless ; and, 
instead of being followed by the avenging sword of Justice, 
their " favor is courted by attendants ; their praises are chanted 
by orators and poets ; the story of their exploits is engraved 
in brass and marble ; and historians stand ready to transmit 
their fame to future generations." 

Tyrants have lived in every age of the world, and have not 
only held forth their sceptres, but have wantonly made men 
succumb to their authority. The most unjust and cruel treat- 
ment has been received at their hands, and dark pages in his- 
tory show their crimes, — crimes of the most aggravated guilt 
and deepest dye ; of such revolting character, we forbear even 
to mention them, — and yet justice slumbered, and the exulting 
perpetrators revelled in the scene. 

What thrilling cries went up from the quiet valleys of Pied- 
mont from suffering thousands ! What shrieks from the seques- 
tered homes of the pious Waldenses ! In the cool recesses of 
the Alps — in these mountain fastnesses of Nature — they lived 
happy and blessed in their retirement, apart from the strife 
and contention which agitated the world in general, and dis- 
tinguished for their industry, piety, and the cultivation of every 
moral virtue which is always associated with religion in the 
devout soul. 

The incessant, patient labor of more than two centuries 
wrought a wonderful change, transforming the barren hill-sides 
into fruitful gardens, and making the bleakest places inviting 



WALDENS IAN PERSECUTION. 



99 



by the erection of cottages which held happy families — happy 
because over their rock-sheltered homes brooded pious content. 
Mutual love and affection were the law of this mountain people. 
No disputes disturbed their harmony, for brotherly love pre- 
cluded all possibility of discord. They had no regular priests, 
no pretended ritual, nor boasted any superior code ; but there, 
in their secluded haunts, they built an altar to the living God, 
and, in the " magnificent temple " formed by the heavenly Archi- 
tect, they paid fitting homage, acceptable to the Infinite. No- 
bler worship was never known than was to be seen in these 
mountain assemblies. They had a little world of their own 
on a model plan. The sun, perhaps, spared but a few of his 
straggling rays for the remote glen ; but nevertheless, the 
grateful inhabitants were not strangers to cheerful light, and 
the streams which trickled down from glacial heights refreshed 
as perfect an oasis as ever appeared in the moral desert of life. 
They continued to increase, and villages and hamlets sprang 
up around them, all subject to the same mild sway, the same 
pacific government. 

Now, with what Nature teaches us of God, of his justice 
and beneficence, and supposing his government of his crea- 
tures to be limited to time, we should naturally expect that 
such a people would be his special delight ; that He would 
cherish for them peculiar care, always interpose to prevent 
the hellish designs of wicked men, and give complete deliver- 
ance from all their foes. We could draw no other inference 
with consistency ; and yet we see this peaceable and interesting 
people become the victims of a persecution almost without a 
parallel for its cruelty and terror. 

Terrible edicts went forth from the parliament of Provence, 
and the messengers of haughty princes, eager to execute their 
commission, entered the precincts of this harmless people, and 
commenced a work of destruction that ceased not until the 
results of toilsome centuries were swept away, and scarce a 
vestige remained of their thrift and industry. Men, women s 



100 



ALBIGENSIAN PERSECUTION. 



and children, in attempting to flee, were arrested and put to 
death without mercy, and all that appertained to them de- 
stroyed before their eyes. 

The year 1540 witnessed the whole of that flourishing district 
turned into a cheerless and solitary desert. The place once 
vocal with the songs of a virtuous and happy people became 
silent as the grave ; indeed, it was made as one vast tomb, 
wherein the pious sons of the mountain found a burial, — not 
such a burial as they had given, when, after the gentle deca- 
dence of years, they had hopefully laid down their own to rest 
in the quiet dells about them. No ! theirs was a premature 
and cruel death, and their bones were left as a legacy to the 
soil on which they had lived. Their ungarnished sepulchres 
are not forgotten, and a voice has been heard issuing there- 
from, saying, "The Lord shall avenge his slaughtered saints.'* 

The haughty and malicious priests, through whose influence 
these atrocious deeds were done, still revelled in the luxury 
of their palace surroundings, indulged in every form of dissi- 
pation and vice, and exulted over their impious and daring 
crimes. Can this be the end — virtue trampled in the dust 
and vice erect at noonday? The conviction naturally forces 
itself upon the mind, that a day of retribution must come, when 
the meaning of such discipline will be apparent, when the cry 
of injured Justice will be heard, and guilt shall meet its doom. 
We cannot vindicate the character of the Almighty, in such 
dispensations as these, in any other way ; and we should choose 
to do this at the expense of everything else, for what is man, 
or the opinions of men, in contrast? 

From the little town of Albi, also, comes a breeze laden 
with like sounds of those from off Alpine heights. The record 
of Albigensian wrongs gives a similar story of persecuted inno- 
cence, of helpless resistance to forces worked by unholy agents, 
and of misery and waste that followed in the march of tyrants 
and their base accomplices. 

Louis XIV. made France the theatre for the exhibition of 



CRIMES OF LOUIS XIV. 



101 



the very worst passions. He hated virtue, and wherever he 
saw it lift its unpretending head, he crushed it beneath his 
iron sword in disdain. His associate, the base Montrevel, 
was one of kindred spirit. Whenever a song of praise went 
up to the God of heaven in their hearing, it was silenced, 
whether it was the devout pagan of a single heart, or the com- 
bined expression of a hundred. Five times this number once 
became the victims of their rage ; and while four hundred con- 
verts were rejoicing together in the heavenly light they had 
found, they and their friends were consigned to a bloody and 
untimely death. 

Notwithstanding the barbarous acts of his reign, it is said 
he continued for thirty years to riot in all the splendors of 
absolute royalty, seemingly exempt from the visitations of 
retributive justice, entering into the most solemn treaties only 
to break them as his fancy pleased, and arrogating to himself 
the honor and authority which belonged only to the Divine 
Being; and after all this, instead of meeting the infamy he 
justly deserved, there were found historians to eulogize him 
as Louis the Great. 

The pages both of ancient and modern history are full of 
examples that illustrate this subject ; but we forbear to cite 
them. We have all heard of the terrible persecutions to which 
the Christian world has been subject ; of the fires of Smith- 
field ; the slow-burning, but destructive fagot so often kindled 
by Queen Mary ; of throngs of martyrs that have suffered at 
the stake and the rack because of devotion to holy principles, 
while monarchs in wickedness, who have instigated the fearful 
work, have kept their thrones and their glory. 

Martyrs are counted by millions — those who have esteemed 
nothing so dear as truth and right, who have heard the author- 
itative tones of that voice we have called eternal, and chose to 
obey it, despite the most menacing threats and the most excru- 
ciating tortures. 

When we look at this period of the world's history, and see 



102 



MYSTERIOUS PROVIDENCES. 



how human life was sacrificed to the caprice of wicked men, 
to what extent they pushed their nefarious enginery, and how 
they exulted and triumphed in the result of its workings, we 
are met by the question, "Are justice and judgment the foun- 
dation of God's throne?" and we confess to nothing but a 
negative reply, if this be the scene of final retribution. 

" When we take a survey of the moral world around us," 
says one, "as it exists in the present day, the same conclusion 
forces itself upon the mind. When we behold, on the one 
hand, the virtuous and upright votary of religion struggling 
with poverty and misery, treated with scorn and contempt, 
persecuted on account of his integrity and piety, despoiled of 
his earthly enjoyments, or condemned to an ignominious death ; 
and, on the other, the profligate and oppressor, the insolent 
despiser of God and religion, passing his days in affluence and 
luxurious ease, prosecuting with impunity his unhallowed 
courses, and robbing the widow and the fatherless of their 
dearest comforts — when we behold hypocrisy successful in all 
its schemes, and honesty and rectitude overlooked and neg- 
lected — the destroyer of our species loaded with wealth and 
honors, while the benefactors of mankind are pining in obscu- 
rity and indigence — knaves and fools exalted to posts of 
dignity and honor, and men of intelligence and uprightness 
treated with scorn, and doomed to an inglorious obscurity — 
criminals of the deepest dye escaping with impunity, and gen- 
erous actions meeting with a base reward — when we see 
young men of virtue and intelligence cut off in early life, when 
they were just beginning to bless mankind with their philan- » 
thropic labors, and tyrants and oppressors continuing the pests 
of society, and prolonging their lives to old age in the midst 
of their folly and wickedness — when we behold one nation 
and tribe irradiated with intellectual light, another immersed 
in thick darkness ; one enjoying the blessings of civilization 
and liberty, another groaning under the lash of despotism — 
when we contemplate such facts throughout every department 



| 



MYSTERIOUS PROVIDENCES. 



103 



of the moral world, can we suppose, for a moment, that the 
divine administration is bounded by the visible scene of things, 
that the real characters of men shall never be brought to light, 
that vice is to remain in eternal concealment and impunity, 
and that the noblest virtues are never to receive their just 
f recompense of reward ' ? 

"To admit such a conclusion would be, in effect, to deny the 
wisdom, goodness, and rectitude of the Ruler of the world, or 
to suppose that his all-wise and benevolent designs may be 
defeated by the folly and wickedness of human beings. But 
such conclusions are so palpably and extravagantly absurd, 
that the only alternative, the reality of a future state of 
existence, may be pronounced to have the force of a moral 
demonstration. So that, had we no other argument to pro- 
duce in support of the doctrine of a future state of retribution, 
this alone would be sufficient to carry conviction to every mind 
that recognizes the existence of a Supreme Intelligence, and 
entertains just views of the attributes which must necessarily 
be displayed in his moral administration." 

Things appear less mysterious to us than to the pupils of 
nature ; yet how much that is incomprehensible remaineth for 
our consideration ! How often we have occasion to remark the 
strange inequalities of life as we have viewed them, — perhaps 
mourned over them when they have affected our life-interests, 
and changed the whole aspect of existence ! 

IVhen we see the head of a household smitten down in 
active life, taken away from the circle that depended upon 
him, not only for counsel, but for comfortable subsistence, and 
a feeble, suffering member of the same family spared, we 
marvel that it should be so. And when we see one at the 
head of a literary institution exerting a wide-spread, hallowed 
influence, that is to tell upon the world's regeneration — when 
we see such a one removed from the world, and the poor 
lunatic live on year after year, unblessing and unblessed, we 
wonder at the arrangement. 



104 LIFE A SEASON OF DISCIPLINE. 



The sympathy of the public mind has recently been directed 
to one of these strange providences — the sudden exit of a 
youthful Christian ambassador who had just entered the path 
of usefulness — just commenced the vigorous cultivation of the 
moral vineyard, where he gave promise of efficient labor and 
marked success. Other lights have gone out, also, in various 
parts of Christendom, where they were much needed, as it 
seemed, to disperse the moral darkness ; and in all these places 
those live on who only make the night darker and longer, and 
the prospect of the dawn more dubious still. What variety 
we see, too, in the distribution of gifts and means ! There are 
many who have an ardent thirst for knowledge, the bent of 
whose minds is altogether toward intellectual pursuits, but 
who have no means to aid them in the prosecution of their 
favorite plans. They toil, it may be, to attain the means, but 
often to find in the end that they are but wrecks, mentally and 
physically. 

Others have all the means requisite for the accomplishment 
of all these purposes, but no desire, no taste ; so that mankind, 
in view of these things, are always saying, if things were 
reversed, it would be better. 

We might follow these differences, and find them existing in 
every possible department of life — a "disparity," says Pollok, 
that hath "taught many lessons, but this taught in chief, — 

Though learned by few : that God no value set, 

That man should none, on goods of worldly kind, 

On transitory, frail, external things, 

Of migratory, ever-changing sort. 

And further taught, that in the soul alone, 

The thinking, reasonable, willing soul, 

God placed the total excellence of man, 

And meant him evermore to seek it there." 

Though there be much of mystery, it is not for us to ques- 
tion the propriety of God's method of discipline. 

When we think that while " he works his sovereign will," 
he is "treasuring up his bright designs" against a day of 



EXPLANATION OF MYSTERIES. 105 

revelation, — a day of rewards and just decisions, — we cease 
our wonderings, and settle down with the consideration that 
" God is his own interpreter, and he will make it plain." 

When we think that this life is a season of probation, of 
trial, and that eternity is rich in resources that will fully com- 
pensate for all the deficiencies and inequalities that trouble us 
so much here, our disposition to marvel is very much modified, 
if not lost altogether. 

What though " blooming youth be snatched away by death's 
resistless hand ; " we need not be inconsolable if the unfolding 
buds of virtue are to develop in greater beauty and perfection 
in another and endless life. 

What though the haughty tyrant and shameless profligate 
triumph over the sufferings and downfall of the excellent of 
the earth, since a perfect and future administration will reverse 
the scales of justice, and give due recompense to both virtue 
and wickedness. 

This life is indeed checkered. Might often prevails over 
right; and here again we should be lost in another maze of 
doubt and confusion with only a present life. But perplexities 
vanish, difficulties melt away, before the light that comes from 
another scene — from the idea of world beyond world, and 
life beyond life ; for, as God is perfect, so will his government 
be perfect, and so will Ins intelligent creatures be made to see 
it, and that, too, in no partial manner, but universally. 

The voice, then, of these mysteries of providence that we 
have glanced at, bids us look forward " beyond the bounds 
of time" for their full explanation. 

They give strong intimations that the rough places shall be 
made plain, and the crooked things straight — that a perfect 
and final adjustment will restore the seeming want of harmony, 
and disclose order and design where our short-sighted, earthly 
vision discerned only the contrary. 



106 BEAHMINIGAL PHILOSOPHY. 



CHAPTEE VII. 

MIND, FROM ITS VERY NATURE, IMPERISHABLE. 

Brahminical Philosophy. — TJie Poefs Soliloquy. — Sleep and Death. — 
Argument of Des Cartes. — Infidel Theory of Annihilation. — Nature 
never warrants it. — Changes in Vegetable and Animal Kingdoms. — 
Flavel and Hall. — Physiological Changes. 

"The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ; 
But thou shalt nourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the war of elements, 

The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds." — Addison. 

" The sun is but a spark of fire, 
A transient meteor in the sky ; 
The soul, immortal as its Sire, 

Shall never die ! " — Montgomery. 

The sacred books of the Brahmins have the following pas- 
sage : " The soul is an inseparable portion of the great univer- 
sal mind — in other words, of Brahma. Like the being from 
whom it emanates, it is, therefore, indestructible. It knows 
no distinction of time : it is free, immutable, eternal. The 
wind cannot pierce it, fire cannot burn it, water cannot drown 
it, the earth cannot absorb it. It is beyond the reach of the 
elements, invulnerable, invisible, universal, subsisting in all 
places, and at all times, and victorious over death." 

The philosophy of the Brahminical school, in general, has 
little to commend itself to our sympathies or consideration. 
It is the offspring of a deluded imagination, and the vain con- 
ceits of men. Error is its foster-mother, and we are therefore 
prepared for a system of absurdities and unnatural development. 



HINDOO PHILOSOPHY. 



107 



But, notwithstanding the absence of nearly all the elements 
that form the basis of our diviner system, we yet discover in 
the above fragment more than the shadow of truth — the 
germ of established hope, which, however, can find its le- 
gitimate expansion only under different influences and more 
genial cultivation. The plant of immortality struggled for 
existence under the unskilful training of such masters. It was 
sadly dwarfed, because that which ministered unto its life was 
so little understood ; but we are not to be without appreciation 
of that which bears resemblance to the true shoot, for who is 
to judge effort, and award its due, save He who knows the 
nature of the desire which prompted the effort ? We have seen 
the wild rose blossom in all its sweetness in a field of thistles, 
and the breeze, as it swept by, has conveyed some portion of 
that sweetness to our grateful senses, making us rejoice. So, 
from whatever source comes the fragrance of eternal truth, we 
would delight ourselves in it, though it be from the far plains 
where error and superstition show their rank growth, well nigh 
concealing the less boastful flower of Christianity, with its life- 
giving root. 

Drops of distilled truth have been put up, even by the Hin- 
doos, of decidedly aromatic character, and as far as the quality 
of the ingredients is genuine and ministers to the refined 
Christian sense, so far would we apply it to our use ; but when 
they shall become conversant with the finer methods of analysis 
which belong to the Christian chemist, they will find them- 
selves in possession of means to obtain richer decoctions than 
they have yet known. 

As it is, our apprehensions are different. When we speak 
of the thinking, animating principle in man as being eternal, 
the thought of an end does not come into our conceptions. 
When we have grasped the utmost conceivable idea of number 
to express its duration, an infinity is still before it, wherein to 
unwind the limitless thread of its being, and weave the web 
that infinite ages of action can never finish. 



108 



THEORY OF ANNIHILATION. 



Like them we believe that no element of the physical uni- 
verse, or the combined action of the whole, can in any way 
harm the soul. It shall prove "victorious over death;" but 
while we affirm its everlasting consciousness, they admit 
its final absorption. Millions of changes may indeed be 
passed through,, occupying an inconceivable space of time; 
but there comes an era in the soul's history when there is no 
more to be experienced, when all that can be known is known, 
and nothing remains but to sink into the nature of their God, 
and be lost. 

The idea, however, of losing a distinct and conscious state 
of existence is not at all pleasing, and some of the followers 
of Vishnu are represented as offering this prayer : " O 
Vishnu ! we do not wish for absorption, but for a state of 
happiness in which we shall forever see and serve thee as our 
lord, in which thou wilt continue as our beloved master, and 
we as thy servants." And such is their faith in the propitious 
character of their Deity, that they believe his true disciples to 
be graciously permitted an everlasting life near him in answer 
to this earnest petition. 

But how meagre are hopes inspired by a system like this ! 
There is no perfect happiness unless perpetuity be associated 
with it, and the word is robbed of its meaning in a future life 
if there cometh an end, even though that end be so far distant 
as to defy our present computation. 

As the thought of not living again naturally tends to check 
every generous ambition and pursuit in this life, so, were we to 
triumph over death, and yet believe in final absorption, the soul, 
it would seem, might sink into lethargic repose, with no stimulus 
to activity or attainment in any direction. 

There are some who advocate a philosophy even more 
puerile, in some respects, than that of the Hindoos — those 
who teach that the spiritual principle finds total annihilation in 
connection with the physical, — that at the dissolution of the 
latter, the former ceases to be. 



SLEEP A TYPE OF DEATH. 



109 



Thus sang a poet of this order on the death of a friend : - 

" Alas ! the meanest flowers which gardens yield, 
The vilest weeds that flourish in the field. 
Which dead in wintry sepulchres appear, 
Eevive in spring, and bloom another year ; 
But we, the great, the brave, the learned, the wise, 
Soon as the hand of death has closed our eyes, 
In tombs forgotten lie ; no suns restore ; 
We sleep, forever sleep, to wake no more." 

Fitting, indeed, and expressive his first word. Well might he 
commence, with doleful tone, Alas ! for cheerless was the pros- 
pect for him. Why had he not bestow r ed his kindliest affec- 
tions upon the "weeds " and "flowers " of earth, and spent his 
appreciation upon those things which "revive" and bloom 
again, instead of indulging the sentiments of human friendship 
which tantalize by their exceeding brevity ? 

Why had he been so inconsistent as to cherish love, to 
strengthen the ties which bound him to one of his kind, and 
then mourn and waste his grief upon a hopeless, soulless clod, 
that must lie down in eternal sleep, "to wake no more "? 

What folly was manifest in the thought of being "great," or 
"brave," or "learned," or "wise," since the attainment of 
such distinctions contributed to nothing, and was an expendi- 
ture of energy to no practical purpose whatever — simply a 
waste 

Sceptics tell us they discover the "image of death" in 
" sleep ; " but where is the reason to suppose that tins extends 
beyond the tired framework of the soul, or where the evidence 
that the exercise of a single intellectual function is suspended 
by it? "Sleep relaxes the strained muscles, gives repose to 
the tired limbs, and shuts the wearied sense, the actual and 
material world to our apprehension ceasing to exist ; but the 
mind, the man, claims no rest from his appropriate toil, but 
pursues his task in the world of dreams. All the proper and 
exclusive functions of the soul are then discharged as readily 
and continuously as in our waking hours. Reason and recol- 



110 



ARGUMENT OF DEB CARTES. 



lection, judgment, fancy, the desires and the affections, still 
exercise their office ; and the will, though it has lost control, for 
a time, of its actual servants through their fatigue, still governs 
an ideal kingdom, and spurs its fancied ministers." 

Eeason as we may, the candid mind must ever come back to 
the conclusion, that as sleep introduces us to new spheres of 
activity, so death may be, in all probability, "the portal to a 
spirit-land," where consciousness and power to act will still 
be retained. "I think; therefore I am ," was called "the cele- 
brated argument " of Des Cartes. Would not the deduction be 
equally logical — I am; therefore I must continue to be? 

But what saith the sceptic? After all his reasonings, this 
appears the sum of his comprehensive logic — /Somehow I am, 
and somehow I shall cease to be. And why anything clearer ? 
The range of his vision is extremely narrow ; the platform 
whereon he stands is too limited to allow the free play of 
thought, and it must be dwarfed. 

Even the manifest power in the operations of nature he con- 
fesses a hidden mystery, and all the occurrences of the physical 
universe, instead of being guided and governed by harmonious 
laws, seem to him to follow each other "by an inscrutable 
mechanism, or by a blind and unconscious fatality." 

In "the countless aspects and ceaseless changes of the world 
without," he beholds only the "fortuitous concourse of atoms, 
self-governed, yet bound one to another by inexorable neces- 
sity, and forming an adamantine chain, that is nowhere held 
up or sustained save by a dim abstraction," as if it was better to 
have Chaos sit umpire, and Chance govern. It is not wonderful 
that he should wish to let drop the curtain of everlasting night, 
and sleep eternity away, when there was nothing more to hope 
for than his philosophy affords. It is only when the contest 
between mind and matter ceases, and a guiding Spirit is 
seen to animate all, that anything like harmony exists any- 
where. It is true there is mystery in mind. Its operations are 
past human understanding. Volumes have been written in 



NO ANNIHILATION IN NATURE. 



Ill 



explanation of the laws by which it acts, and still the subtle 
thing eludes the most curious explorer at some points ; and it 
must be so, for it is a divine emanation, and bears the impress 
of the Incomprehensible. Its nature is wonderful, and this 
the infidel acknowledges ; yet he makes it a mere machine, 
complex indeed, capable of many and varied revolutions, but 
destined to wear out under the adverse influences of time, 
becoming, not a mass of ungathered ruins, but an absolute 
nothing. Mind naturally desires a reason for things ; but 
where is the evidence of annihilation ? 

Not an instance of it appears in Nature, so far as we know. 
We may look through the whole material system, and the 
keenest vision, the most scientific observation, coupled with 
the most correct experiment, have never been able to ascertain 
the remotest probability of anything like an absolute expulsion 
of even the smallest particles from the universe of matter. 

No reason exists for us to suppose that in all the regions of 
space a single atom has ever been, or ever will be, annihilated. 
It is true a countless variety of changes are constantly taking 
place in the natural world. We witness them in every depart- 
ment. The starry heavens present different aspects at different 
times. Now a comet sweeps with strange velocity through its 
ethereal pathway of millions of miles, and again meteors of 
wonderful brilliancy dart from every portion of the nightly sky. 
The sun, the moon, and the several planets, change, as it were, 
their countenances, showing that mutability is characteristic of 
all created things. 

So, too, upon the earth the incessant workings of change 
excite interest and minister to alarm. " Mountains are crum- 
bling down, the caverns of the ocean filling up ; islands are 
emerging from the bottom of the sea, and again sinking into the 
abyss ; the ocean is frequently shifting its boundaries, and trees, 
plants, and waving grain now adorn many tracts which were once 
overwhelmed with the foaming billows." Earthquakes have 
swept towns and villages from existence in a moment of time ; 



112 



CHANGES IN TEE VEGETABLE WORLD. 



volcanoes have poured their streams of burning lava over the 
fields and homes of men, scorching the former and destroying 
the latter for the use of their occupants, while " the solid strata 
within the bowels of the earth have been bent and disrupted by 
the operation of some tremendous power." 

What changes, too, are manifest in the atmosphere which 
surrounds us, wrought by the action of the gaseous elements, 
"animal respiration, the process of evaporation, the action of 
winds, and the agencies of light, heat, and the electric and 
magnetic fluids " ! Seasons come and go, and the vegetable 
kingdom is seen in all its glory and prosperity, or bearing the 
unmistakable signs of decay and final dissolution. Spring and 
summer make everything beautiful with buds and blossoms ; the 
wind makes sweet harmonies as it plays on the myriad harps 
strung by almighty skill ; the earth is covered with a carpet of 
shaded green ; flowers lift their heads by mossy banks and 
gajdy dancing streams ; the leafy groves are vocal with the 
songs that come from Nature's orchestra — lovely minstrels ; 
ten thousand insects hum away their gladsome life, and the 
clouds of heaven look down upon the scene, exercising a grate- 
ful guardianship, and ever and anon pouring their secrets and 
treasures into the bosom of that earth which supports and 
ministers unto all. While the spirit of man exults in the 
beauty and utility of such a state of things, a change comes. 
A frosty and cold-hearted monarch passeth by, and as if 
jealous of so much smiling beauty, he lays his blighting hand 
upon everything. Under his influence the clouds become con- 
gealed, and less confiding; the queen of the floral realm goes 
into a decline over the untimely death of her beautiful subjects ; 
the variegated carpet in the vast hall of nature grows lustreless 
and dull under the ceaseless tread of the haughty despot ; the 
insect throng hush their notes, expecting their winding-sheet; 
the groves are silent, for the musicians are gone to hold a 
concert under more auspicious circumstances ; the ten thousand 
pleasurable instruments of music hung upon the forest trees 



CHANGES IN TEE ANIMAL KINGDOM. 



113 



are unstrung; the sweet symphonies abroad are turned into 
low wails, and the children of nature go mourning to their 
graves. It is a universal burial. The temples of nature are 
left desolate, for the worshipful throng that ministered at her 
altar and chanted her praises have died. The flowers and 
shrubbery of the grounds about have lost their beauty, and 
everything seems merged in general decay. 

But it is only seeming. There is nothing lost — nothing 
annihilated. These changes fulfil the designs of Providence in 
maintaining and perpetuating the beauty and harmony of na- 
ture. When flowers, leaves, shrubs, and plants droop and die, 
returning to their native elements, we expect new combinations, 
new forms of beauty, and do see them arise, phoenix-like, to 
take the places that had been made vacant; and so all the 
changes we might contemplate, or even conceive, are nothing 
more nor less than simply a change of form, the parts still 
remaining the same, "not to be annihilated by any power 
of nature, and retaining still their specific solidity, magni- 
tude, &c." 

Witness the various tribes of animal existence, as they pass 
from infancy to maturity and old age, or from one state and man- 
ner of life to another and far different : observe the insect world, 
the little creatures that measure their steps upon a bit of earth, 
and then soar aloft in the air — things of marvellous beauty. 
How strange and mysterious the changes to which these are 
subject ; and if, in all these transformations — all these changes 
and revolutions in nature — no particle of matter is ever lost, 
or reduced to nothing, is it not highly reasonable to suppose 
that the thinking principle in man will survive every change, 
and exist, active and perceptive, notwithstanding the dissolu- 
tion of that which surrounds it? 

When we see the crawling worm burst the confinement of 
its self-wrought tomb and come forth a beauteous form, to 
mount upward on expanded wings, we cannot but read in it 
the symbol of man's destiny. As it emerges into a more glo- 
8 



114 



ANNIHILATION NOT GOD'S PLAN. 



rious existence, we are led to think we are yet but the "rudi- 
ments " of what we shall be, when the disembodied spirit shall 
be ushered into its final state, and be invested with the new 
power immortality will be capable of giving, having changed 
the grovelling form of the terrestrial for the glory and expan- 
siveness of the celestial. 

If annihilation forms no part of God's plan in the material 
world, if every particle of matter is reserved and employed 
for new creations in a perpetual round of changes in the nat- 
ural world, how shall we suppose it to be carried on in the 
world of mind, that world where God has left the strongest 
evidence of his mightiest displays, and the indications of most 
comprehensive design ? Can we indulge the idea for a moment 
that the benevolent and infinite Creator would every day set in 
operation the delicate machinery of a thousand minds, with all 
their associated power of capacity, and at the same time break 
the springs and crush the power of a thousand others that had 
issued from his hand, leaving them as idle fragments and un- 
necessary atoms in his universe, or expunging all trace what- 
ever of their existence from the earth ? 

Shall there be eternal forgetfulness with the being for whom 
the universe was created, and yet that structure remain, through 
every variety of change, as if matter was of more consequence 
than mind, and of longer duration? 

Will the dust and rubbish of earth be cherished, to the utter 
exclusion of the rich gems that appear in the mine of spiritual 
being ? Will the basest metals be retained, and the most valua- 
ble thrown away? It is contrary to worldly wisdom, and is the 
Divine less careful ? Man would never weave a fabric of rare 
value and beauty only that he might please himself by rending 
the fine tissue ; nor build a structure of rich material and mag- 
nificent proportion, that he might witness its downfall, and see 
how it would look as a splendid ruin. 

But all comparisons fail. Nothing material can shadow forth 
the spiritual, or its immense superiority. No illustration can 



MIND NOBLER THAN MATTER. 



115 



show the difference between the doings of the finite and the 
infinite. The first is folly, the last is highest wisdom. Should 
God annihilate, he has a right to do it ; but that he will, is at 
variance with all we know of him ; that he gives grace and 
beauty to scenes on earth, for man's benefit, and then blots him 
out forever, when he has scarce begun to know what they were 
made for, is an idea it seems impious to entertain. 

The works of genius — the productions of gifted minds — 
live on through centuries and ages, influencing succeeding 
generations, and never lessening in power with the lapse of 
time. Is it only the works of man, the little emanations, the 
little sparks that are emitted, — is it only these that are im- 
mortal ? 

Is the solitary sunbeam greater than the sun, the murmuring 
rivulet greater than the ocean? If so, then is a single effort 
of mind greater than the ten thousand achievements it is capa- 
ble of working out, larger and more expansive than the origi- 
nating principle itself. 

We have in the literary heavens a bright galaxy of names — 
men whose sublime conceptions and lofty ideals have done 
much in bringing the human race up to a higher standard of 
taste and excellence. In science and philosophy we have a 
constellated host that have poured cheering light upon a path- 
way which would otherwise have remained dark indeed. In 
morals and theology we have a substantial army of goodly sol- 
diers, that were ready to leave themselves upon the field rather 
than lose the victory for truth and right. How many such we 
might speak of who went down to the grave with their armor 
on, battling in what they thought a glorious cause, regardless 
of ease or self-interest in any direction ! 

We keep them in remembrance ; but while the memory of 
their deeds and the influence of them remain, are they en- 
veloped in the darkness of eternal night ? Surely if the efforts 
of mind live, mind itself is more surely immortal. We cannot 
think that 



116 



OPINION OF FLAVEL. 



" Thoughts that know no bounds, 
But, self-inspired, rise upward, searching out 
The Eternal Mind, — the Father of all thought, — 
"Will become mere tenants of a tomb, 
Dwellers in darkness, who the illuminate realms 
Of uncreated light have visited, and lived — 
Lived in the dreadful splendor of that throne, 
Which One, with gentle hand, the veil of flesh 
Lifting, that hung 'twixt man and it, revealed 
In glory, — throne before which, even now, 
Our souls, moved by prophetic power, bow down 
Rejoicing, yet at their own natures awed -— 
Souls that Thee know by a mysterious sense, 
Thou awful, unseen Presence ! are they quenched ? 
Or borne they on, hid from our mortal eyes 
By that bright day which ends not, as the sun 
His robe of light flings round the glittering stars ? 
And with our frames do perish all our loves ? 
Do those that took their root, and put forth buds, 
And their soft leaves unfolded, in the warmth 
Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty, 
Then fade and fall, like fair, unconscious flowers ? 
Are thoughts and passions, that to the tongue give speech, 
And make it send forth winning harmonies, — 
That to the cheek do give its living glow, 
And vision in the eye the soul intense 
With that for which there is no utterance, — 
Are these the body's accidents? — no more? — 
To live in it, and, when that dies, go out 
Like the burnt taper's flame ? " 

Is this the destiny of thought ? Look at the soul, — the 
home of thought, — its nature, and see if there be any possible 
tendency to annihilation in the elements of its composition. 
But how absurd to talk of the composition of mind ! Is it not 
a simple, indivisible thing, distinct from matter and from all 
the laws which govern matter — an absolute stranger to mix- 
ture, and consequently subject to far different conditions from 
those we call material substances ? 

Said John Flavel, "Death is the great divider, but it is of 
things that are divisible. The more simple, pure, and refined 
any material thing is, by so much the more permanent and 



VIEWS OF ROBERT HALL. 



117 



durable it is found to be. The nearer it approaches to the 
nature of spirit, the farther it is removed from the power of 
death ; but that which is not material, or mixed at all, is wholly 
exempt from the stroke and power of death. It is from the 
contrariant qualities and jarring humors in mixed bodies that 
they come under the law and power of dissolution. Matter 
and mixture are the doors at which death enters naturally upon 
the creatures." 

"So, too," saith Robert Hall, "the spirit of man is some- 
thing uncompounded ; therefore not destructible ; not to be 
scattered by winds, or consumed by flames. No outward 
force can touch thought, can affect the inward consciousness 
of guilt or innocence. Spirit naturally ascends to God, the 
Infinite Spirit, the Father of all spirits, as dust naturally returns 
to dust. If God does not destroy the spirit of his creature, it 
cannot be destroyed ; but what reason can be assigned why he 
should destroy that which is the chief work of his creative 
power ? What atom of matter did he ever yet annihilate ? Is 
it conceivable, then, that he should annihilate that alone which 
partakes most of his own nature, and renders the creature 
capable of an immortal union with himself? 

" Can mind, which is an eternal thing, an emanation of the 
Father of spirits, be supposed to perish? No ; be assured you 
are born to immortality, as your natural inheritance ; your 
being, once commenced, must go on forever." 

All presumption that death will crush out the living spirit 
forever must be based upon the supposition that it is a mixture 
of substances, and, as such, exposed to the influences of decay ; 
but human analysis will be long finding evidence to this end. 

All our consciousness of mental operations, and all our 
knowledge of mind itself, are contrary to such an idea. Matter 
may be separated into numberless parts, and still exist, — one 
portion here and another there, perfectly independent ; one 
part in motion and another at rest. But who ever affirmed this 
of mind, or conceived so miserable an absurdity? 



118 



MIND INDIVISIBLE. 



Could it for once be asserted and proved that the perceptive 
power of our being is the joint production of dissimilar 
substances, there would be little remaining but to resign our- 
selves to the hopeless prospect of annihilation, for the door would 
then be left ajar for this hideous spectre to come in and take 
possession ; but it is so plain, so unmistakably true, that the 
power of consciousness, and consequently the conscious being, 
is an indivisible thing, that there hardly appears a crevice for 
the admission of so unwelcome an intruder. 

Then, when we speak of individual mind as a single thing, 
independent of all others, but indivisible in itself, — and it seems 
inconsistent to speak in any other way, — it follows, "that our 
organized bodies are no more ourselves, or part of ourselves, 
than any other matter around us." " The dissolution of several 
organized bodies," says Butler, "supposing ourselves to have 
successively animated them, would have no more conceivable 
tendency to destroy the living beings, ourselves, or deprive 
us of living faculties, the faculties of perception and of action, 
than the dissolution of any foreign matter which we are capable 
of receiving impressions from, and making use of for the com- 
mon occasions of life." 

It is true that such is the peculiarity of our mental constitu- 
tion, such its intangibility, that we may not prove by experi- 
mental observation, perhaps, its strict unity ; but as there are 
self-evident truths, — truths the intellect bids us accept with 
unquestionable integrity, — so we bow to the unerring mandate, 
and believe what our own consciousness tells us is really so. 
Our bodies are only the mediums through which we perceive 
objects of sense ; they are not that which perceives at all ; how, 
then, can anyone suppose that the removal of the body can be 
the destruction of the soul? or how can one be less himself 
from the cessation of the bodily functions? The eye may 
become dim, and cease altogether to convey impressions of ex- 
ternal objects ; the ear may refuse to transmit sound, and indeed 
a great portion of the body may become as it were dead, — *as 



PHYSIOLOGICAL CHANGES. 



119 



has been seen in an instance already recorded, — and we should 
never think that, because of this, personal identity is lost. 

This might happen to a friend, and he would be no less a 
friend; to ourselves, and we should be no less ourselves. 
Were it otherwise, — were we grossly to compound spirit with 
matter, — then, as our friends are subject to these changes, 
and especially as they draw near the season of old age, bowing 
under the weight of physical infirmity, they would become to 
us other than their very selves, and we should mourn hope- 
lessly ; but when we think it is only a worn-out garment they 
are thr owing aside ; that the same soul, the same loves, hopes, 
and feelings exercise and animate them ; that they are capable 
of the same sympathy and appreciation as when the framework 
of matter was stronger about them, — then we are cheered, and 
cannot avoid the supposition that the spirit does and will exist 
independent of the body. 

According to certain established physiological laws, we have 
in the course of our lives been subject to repeated changes, 
having lost a great part, if not the whole, of our entire bodies ; 
but are we less assured of our own particular identity now^ 
than at the remotest period of recollection in our past history ? 
And when we are called to lay aside at once and altogether our 
vestments of mortality, according to another established law of 
our being, why shall we not remain the same ? 

"That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the 
other will be more at once, does not prove anything to the 
contrary. We have passed undestroyed through those many 
and great revolutions of matter, so peculiarly appropriated to 
ourselves ; why should we imagine death would be so fatal to us ? 
Nor can it be objected, that what is thus alienated, or lost, is 
no part of our original, solid body, but only adventitious mat- 
ter ; because we may lose entire limbs, which must have con- 
tained many solid parts and vessels of the original body ; or, if 
this be not admitted, we have no proof that any of these solid 
parts are dissolved or alienated by death ; though, by the way, 



120 



MAN'S TWOFOLD NATURE. 



we are very nearly related to that extraneous or adventitious mat- 
ter, while it continues united to and distending the several parts 
of our solid body. But, after all, the relation a person bears 
to those parts of his body to which he is the most nearly related, 
what does it appear to amount to but this, that the living agent 
and those parts of the body mutually affect each other? And 
the same thing — the same in kind, though not in degree — may 
be said of all foreign matter, which gives us ideas, and which 
we have any power over. From these observations the whole 
ground of the imagination is removed, that the dissolution of 
any matter is the destruction of a living agent, from the interest 
he once had in such matter ; " and if the dissolution of matter in 
which we are most nearly interested is not our dissolution, and 
if the destruction of several of the organs and instruments of 
perception and motion is not our destruction, where is the 
ground to think "that the dissolution of any other matter or 
destruction of any other organs and instruments, will be the 
dissolution or destruction of living agents, from the like kind of 
relation " — a relation we peculiarly sustain to those things 
which we find dissolved by death. 

Moreover, we exist, creatures of a twofold nature, living two 
lives, as it were, in one, two streams meeting, counter-currents, 
each having its own characteristics and calling for its own ap- 
propriate consideration. We all know there is a state of sensa- 
tion, and another of perception, the former dependent upon the 
organs of sense and instruments of motion for life, activity, and 
enjoyment, and the latter independent of all assistance from this 
source, finding its stimulus in the mind itself, inasmuch as the 
power of reflection may exist in the greatest intensity : we are 
capable of great pleasure and of corresponding pain when our 
senses have nothing to do with it at all. We can reason, 
remember, and love without any aid whatever from the body ; 
but the life of sensation can be maintained only through it§ 
ministrations, so that while final dissolution must inevitably 
destroy the one, it can in no sense affect or destroy the other. 



MIND VICTORIOUS OVER DISEASE. 121' 



There are mortal diseases, also, which render the body per- 
fectly powerless for a long time, while the mind is clear and 
active. The tenement about the living inhabitant may be 
slowly taken down. Here a pin may be wrenched out, and 
there a pillar removed, and the whole may quiver and shake, but 
still remain. At length it falls ; but the conscious agent finds no 
burial in its ruins, for he has fled — at least, such is our belief 
from the evidence before us. 

Persons in the last moments of life oftentimes appear to 
have the power of reflection in the most vigorous exercise, and 
more active than at any previous time in their history. The 
body is weak, the senses fail, but " apprehension, memory, and 
reason " were never more true to their nature and office than 
now. The power to show affection by kind and expressive acts 
is altogether gone ; but look upon the countenance upon which 
Death has placed his signet, and see how every lineament of that 
countenance testifies to the strength of the undying principle of 
love. So with every quality of mind : up to the last gasp of 
mortal life, we find them unimpaired. We do not say there are 
no diseases that dim the brightness of the reflective faculties, for 
sometimes dark shadows eclipse them ; but how often with these 
has returning consciousness come at the moment of death, like 
the sun emerging from darkness, to assert the certainty of its 
existence and the reality of its beams. There seems no prob- 
ability, by any possible view we can take of it, that disease in 
any form can prove the destruction of the reflecting powers ; and 
if, up to the last boundary of time, we find spirit-life in active 
operation, is there any reason, in view of what we have said, 
to suppose that death will even suspend its exercise, or interrupt 
its continuous flow hereafter? Therefore, to use the language 
of Butler again, " for aught we know of ourselves, of our present 
life, and of death, death may immediately, in the natural course 
of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged state of life, 
as our birth does — a state in which our capacities and sphere of 
perception, and of action, may be much greater than at present. 



122 



ANNIHILATION ABSURD. 



For, as our relation to our external organs of sense renders us 
capable of existing in our present state of sensation, so it may 
be the only natural hinderance to our existing, immediately and 
of course, in a higher state of reflection." Of kindred senti- 
ment is Eousseau, as will appear from the following passage 
from his writings : " It is very plain," says he, " that, during 
my corporeal life, as I perceive nothing but by means of my 
senses, whatever is not submitted to their cognizance must 
escape me. When the union of the body and soul is broken, 
I conceive that the one may be dissolved, and the other pre- 
served entire. Why should the dissolution of the one neces- 
sarily bring on that of the other ? On the contrary, being so 
different in their natures, their state of union is a state of vio- 
lence, and when it is broken, they both return to their natural 
situation ; the active and living substance regains all the force 
it had employed in giving motion to the passive and dead sub- 
stance to which it had been united. Alas ! my failings make 
me but too sensible that man is but half alive in this life, and 
that the life of the soul commences at the death of the body." 

But why talk of annihilation? The spirit of man loathes 
it, utterly repudiates it, notwithstanding the professions of a 
few to the contrary ; all nature cries out against it, and a 
voice everywhere meets us with the startling annunciation, 
" Man, thou shalt never die." There is no possible light in 
which we can look at this subject, no point of view from 
whence we can contemplate the soul of man and the perfec- 
tions of its Creator, without coming to the conclusion that it 
is not only improbable, but even the very height of absurdity, 
to suppose that the spark of intelligence struck from the divine 
forge will ever be extinguished. 

It is kindled by the Heavenly Workman, and possesses an 
inherent power and energy that cannot be beaten from it, 
though it be subject to the adverse action of all the elements 
of earth, air, and water. 

When we consider this, when we look at the decaying prop- 



SUSPENSION NOT DESTRUCTION. 



123 



erties of matter, and the undecaying nature of mind, we find 
ourselves naturally revolving the idea that this visible, material 
universe may crumble and fall ; but this " spark," which sheds 
its light in our souls, can never go out; this living principle 
can never cease to be active. 

Supposing that we were in actual possession of the knowl- 
edge that death will indeed bring suspension to all our active 
and perceptive powers, this even would not argue anything as 
to their destruction, for there is a wide difference between the 
two ; but we have not that knowledge, nor any indication of 
the slightest foundation for it ; and how much wiser, instead 
of seeking to involve our " being's being " in contradiction, to 
take the weight of evidence in favor of immortality, and meet 
the inducements to the work of preparation which such a pros- 
pect manifestly demands ! 

Try as we may, we cannot make ourselves 

" As summer gusts, of sudden birth and doom; " 

for the voice of Nature is the voice of God, and this tells us 
our influence shall be felt amid other scenes, and on other 
shores ; that the current of our lives runs parallel with the 
infinite. 



124 



TEE COLISEUM. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

INEXPLICABLE MYSTEEIES ATTEND THE DENIAL OF A FUTURE. 

The Coliseum. — Eartli a Tomb. — Meditations on the Supposition of no 
Future. — Birth of Error. — Waste not in God's Plans. — Immortality 
a desirable Fiction, if it be one. 

" If the breath 
Be life itself, and not its task and tent, 
If even a soul like Milton's can know death, 
O man ! thou vessel, purposeless, unmeant, 
Yet drone-hive strange of phantom purposes ! 
Surplus of Nature's dread activity, 
Which, as she gazed on some nigh-finished vase, 
Retreating slow, with meditative pause, 
She formed with restless hands unconsciously ! 
Blank accident ! nothing's anomaly ! " — Coleridge. 

Modern travellers tell us that when the moon comes forth 
in her quiet beauty, and lets fall her silvery beams upon the 
Coliseum, — the largest amphitheatre, not only in proud 
Rome, but in all the world, — the whole seems shrouded in 
mystery. 

Imagination becomes the guide that opens deep vaults of 
gloom, from whence issue the " shadowy forms of emperor and 
lictor, vestal virgin, gladiator, and martyr, in long and silent 
procession." The breezes which play among the broken arches 
and around the lofty columns are changed, as it were, into 
voices to proclaim the triumphs of the past — a time when 
the vast arena rang with the shouts and acclamations of a 
crowd of living men, and witnessed a tumultuous wave of 
human life passing on to its own shore, there to find no reflex 
power, but to lose itself in "absorbing sands," or the porous 
bosom of the rocky guards stationed as consuming sentinels 
along the line it met. 



THE COLISEUM. 



125 



Centuries ago the elevated seats of this massive structure 
held throngs of people, who were enthusiastic over spectacles 
that find no toleration in the present age of civilization. The 
light of eyes to more than fourscore thousand was spent upon 
single exhibitions, at frequent intervals ; but the light has long 
since gone out, and a mighty chasm appears upon the spot 
once so brightly illuminated. The eager multitudes sheltered 
by this magnificent building, and the excited combatants who 
fed their sensual ambition, have all passed away, and with 
them the glory of their works. Age by age this massive 
structure has yielded to the pressure of Time's destroying 
hand — its walls have crumbled and fallen — its strong pillars 
lie prostrate, so that, to those who now behold it, it appears — 
"the monarch of ruins." 

"Built," says one, "of indestructible materials, and seem- 
ingly for eternity, of a size, material, and form to defy the 
f strong hours ' which conquer all, it has bowed its head to 
their touch, and passed into the inevitable cycle of decay." 
To the traveller this gigantic wreck of human enterprise and 
ingenuity is an object of never-failing interest ; but our linger- 
ings here for a moment are only that we may nourish thoughts 
that found birth in its shadows ; that we may clothe an idea 
with drapery furnished at this place, albeit it be so thin as 
scarce to suffice for the chilling atmosphere into which we 
come ; for the finest and proudest things of earth seem to lose 
their value, and prove utterly inadequate, when we place them 
beside the ethereal treasure committed to our keeping, which 
we cherish more fondly than anything else, even while ques- 
tioning the reality of its existence. All earth might be in 
ruins, and it would be nothing to the wreck of mind. As we 
stood, in imagination, by the lofty columns of the Coliseum, 
the thought was suggested that, as the strong pillars to the 
mighty edifice, so is truth to the mind of man. Remove 
therefrom the colossal truth of immortality, and if there be 
anything significant in the " dread magnificence of ruins," it 



126 



EARTH A TOMB. 



is realized then. But why associate poetry with so melancholy 
a waste ? There is no language serious or weighty enough to 
set forth the dreary aspect of such a world. 

" A soul without reflection, like a pile 
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs." 

And imagine no alternative but to witness these millions of 
wrecks on every side, until we ourselves are added to the 
general ruin. Earth now is a vast tomb. We surrender up 
our individual being, and go " to mix forever with the ele- 
ments," to be kindred to the " insensible rock," and to the 
" sluggish clod ; " but this is only said of the dust-made body. 
If earth should claim mind, who would not say, " Give me the 
wings of the morning, that I may fly from the awful sepul- 
chre." The moonlight might look coldly down upon the 
universal cemetery, disclosing deeper vaults and darker shad- 
ows than were ever seen in the mightiest, and most extensive 
ruin we have yet conceived. It defies all comparison. Man 
might drop in his course, the sunlight and the starlight rest 
upon the fallen thing, but the revivifying influence of no 
brighter rays be ever known. As it is, the most mysterious 
of all things is life ; but how much more mysterious when we 
think of it for such an end ! The trophies of art may fade 
away, the proudest monuments of genius fall, and kingdoms 
and empires even vanish, leaving no trace ; but for soul to find 
oblivion is too much. We cannot fathom so deep an ocean of 
mystery as this ; and because we cannot, may we not believe 
that there is a life beyond the dark stream that separates this 
world from another? 

Ambitious men, wishing to immortalize their names, and 
transmit their memories to future generations, have spent long 
periods of time and great wealth in rearing structures seem- 
ingly defying the ravages of time. Especially is this the case 
in the old world, where mammoth efforts of skill and genius 
are still manifest, — many of them, as relics, wonderful and 



CONFESSION OF AN INFIDEL. 



127 



full of interest indeed ; but how immeasurably inferior is the 
combined skill of men in all ages to the marvellous display in 
a single mind ; and shall not these nobler exhibitions of a 
Divine Workman survive man's creations, though they be 
found standing at the end of time ? 

A learned earl was once troubled with atheistical suggestions. 
He was constantly revolving the self-proposed inquiry, Is there 
a God ? If he entertained a negative view, there appeared so 
many problems he could not solve, he was wavering and dis- 
satisfied ; and finally he abandoned it, saying, " If I could give 
any account how myself, or anything else, had a being without 
God, how there came so uniform and so constant a consent 
of mankind, of all ages, tempers, and educations (otherwise 
differing so much in their apprehensions) , about the being of 
God, the immortality of the soul, and religion, in which they 
could not likely either deceive so many, or, being so many, 
could not be deceived, I could be an atheist." 

In like manner, if we can answer the various enigmas, if 
we can satisfactorily dispose of the questions that arise upon 
the denial of immortality, then may we believe there is no 
future. In such a case, — 

" Why rejoices 
Thy heart with hollow joy for hollow good? 
Why cowl thy face beneath the mourner's hood? 
Why waste thy sighs and thy lamenting voices ? 
Be sad! be glad! be neither! Seek or shun! 
Thou hast no reason why ! Thou canst have none ! " 

Ah, if man is not immortal, then are God's ways and man's 
being unaccountable. But so admirably is this thought pre- 
sented by a Christian philosopher, we give his own words, their 
beauty and fitness being the only apology for its length. After 
speaking of the confusion and mystery everywhere prevalent, 
in the natural, moral, and spiritual world, on the denial of this 
truth he says, — 

"Let us suppose, for a few moments, that there is no state 
of existence beyond the grave, and, consequently, that the 



128 WORDS OF A CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER. 



supposed discoveries of revelation are a mere delusion, and 
consider some of the gloomy prospects and absurd consequences 
to which such a supposition necessarily leads. 

M I shall suppose myself standing in an attitude of serious 
contemplation and of anxious inquiry respecting the various 
scenes and objects which surround me, and the events that pass 
under my review. 

" I first of all look into myself, and inquire whence I came ; 
whither I am going ; who produced me ; of what my body is 
composed ; what is the nature of my senses and of the thinking 
principle I feel within me ; and for what purpose was I ush- 
ered into being. I perceive in my body a wonderful mechan- 
ism which I cannot comprehend ; I find by experience that my 
will exercises a sovereign power over my muscular system, so 
that my hands, feet, arms, and limbs are disposed to obey every 
impulse, and, at the signal of a wish, to transport my body 
from one place to another. I find my thinking principle inti- 
mately connected with my corporeal frame, and both acting 
reciprocally on each other ; but I cannot fathom the manner in 
which these operations are effected. I feel ardent desires after 
enjoyments in which I shall never participate, and capacities 
for knowledge and improvement which I never can attain. I 
feel restless and uneasy, even amidst the beauties of nature and 
the pleasures of the senses. 

" I ask, Whence proceeds the want I feel amidst all my en- 
joyments? Wherefore can I never cease from wishing for 
something in addition to what I now possess ? Whence arises 
the disgust that so quickly succeeds every sensitive enjoyment, 
and the want I feel even in the midst of abundance ? I ask 
why I was called into existence at this point of duration rather 
than at any other period of that incomprehensible eternity which 
is past, or of that which is yet to come ; why, amidst the 
vast spaces with which I am encompassed, and the innumera- 
ble globes which surround me, I was chained down to this 
obscure corner of creation, from which I feel unable to trans- 



MYSTERY IN TEE NATURAL WORLD, 129 



port myself; why I was ushered into life in Britain, and not 
in Papua or New Zealand ; and why I was formed to walk 
erect, and not prone, as the inferior animals. To all such in- 
quiries I can find no satisfactory answers ; the whole train of 
circumstances connected with my existence appears involved in 
impenetrable darkness and mystery. Of one thing only I am 
fully assured — that my body shall, ere long, be dissolved and 
mingle with the dust, and my intellectual faculties, desires, and 
capacities for knowledge be forever annihilated in the tomb. 
I shall then be reduced to nothing, and be as though I never 
had been, while myriads of beings, like myself, shall start into 
existence, and perish in like manner, in perpetual succession, 
throughout an eternity to come. 

" I look backward through ages past ; I behold everything 
wrapped in obscurity, and perceive no traces of a beginning to 
the vast system around me. I stretch forward toward futurity, 
and perceive no prospect of an end. All things appear to 
continue as they were from generation to generation, invariably 
subjected to the same movements, revolutions, and changes, 
without any distinct marks which indicate either a beginning 
or an end. I look around on the scene of terrestrial nature ; 
I perceive many beauties in the verdant landscape, and many 
objects the mechanism of which is extremely delicate and ad- 
mirable ; I inhale the balmy zephyrs, am charmed with the 
music of the groves, the splendor of the sun, and the varie- 
gated coloring spread over the face of creation. But I behold 
other scenes, which inspire melancholy and terror — the tem- 
pest, the hurricane, and the tornado ; the sirocco, the samiel, 
and other poisonous winds of the desert ; the appalling thun- 
der-cloud, the forked lightnings, the earthquake, shaking king- 
doms, and the volcano pouring fiery streams around its base, 
which desolate cities and villages in their course. 

w I behold in one place a confused assemblage of the ruins 
of nature, in the form of snow-capped mountains, precipices, 
chasms, and caverns ; in another, extensive marshes and im- 
9 



130 



MYSTERY IN THE MORAL WORLD. 



mense deserts of barren sand ; and in another, a large pro- 
portion of the globe, a scene of sterile desolation, bound 
in the fetters of eternal ice. I know not what opinion to form 
of a world where so many beauties are blended with so much 
deformity, and so many pleasures mingled with so many sor- 
rows and scenes of terror, or what ideas to entertain of Him 
who formed it. 

" But I need give myself no trouble in inquiring into such 
subjects ; for my time on earth is short and uncertain, and 
when I sink into the arms of death I shall have no more con- 
nection with the universe. 

"I take a retrospective view of the moral world in past ages, 
in so far as authentic history serves as a guide, and perceive 
little else but anarchy, desolation, and carnage — the strong 
oppressing the weak, the powerful and wealthy trampling under 
foot the poor and indigent, plunderers and murderers ravaging 
kingdoms and drenching the earth with human gore. I behold 
the virtuous and innocent persecuted, robbed, and massacred, 
while bloody tyrants and oppressors roll in their splendid chari- 
ots, and revel amidst the luxuries of a palace. In such scenes I 
perceive nothing like regularity or order, nor any traces of jus- 
tice or equity in the several allotments of mankind ; for, since 
their whole existence terminates in the grave, the virtuous 
sufferer can never be rewarded, nor the unrighteous despot 
suffer the punishment due to his crimes. The great mass of 
human beings appear to be the sport of circumstances, the 
victims of oppression, and the dupes of knavery and ambition, 
and the moral world at large an assemblage of discordant ele- 
ments tossed about like dust before the whirlwind. I hear 
virtue applauded, and vice denounced as odious and hateful. 
But what is virtue? A shadow, a phantom, an empty name ! 
Why should I follow after Virtue, if she interrupts my pleas- 
ures ; and why should I forsake Vice, if she points out the 
path to present enjoyment? It is my wisdom to enjoy life 
during the short period it continues ; and if riches be con- 



MYSTERY OF TRIAL. 



131 



ducive to my enjoyment of happiness, should I fear to pro- 
cure them either by deceit, perjury, or rapine? If sensual 
indulgence contribute to my pleasure, why should I refrain from 
drunkenness, or any other action that suits my convenience or 
gratifies my passions, since present enjoyments are all I can 
calculate upon, and no retributions await me beyond the 
grave ? 

"I feel myself subjected to a variety of sufferings, disappoint- 
ments, and sorrows — to poverty and reproach, loss of friends, 
corporeal pains, and mental anguish. I am frequently tortured 
by recollections of the past, the feeling of the present, and the 
dread of approaching sufferings. But I see no object to be 
attained, no end to be accomplished, by my subjection to such 
afflictions. I suffer merely for the purpose of feeling pain, 
wasting my body, and hastening its dissolution. I am sick 
only to languish under the burden of a feeble, emaciated frame ; 
perplexed and downcast only to sink into deeper perplexi- 
ties and sorrows ; oppressed with cares and difficulties only to 
enter on a new scene of danger and suffering. No drop of 
comfort mingles itself with the bitter cup of sorrow ; no 
affliction is sweetened and alleviated by the prospect of a better 
world; for the gloomy mansions of the grave bound my views, 
and terminate all my hopes and fears. How, then, can I be 
easy under my sufferings ? How can I be cordially resigned 
to the destiny which appointed them ? How can I trace the 
benevolence of a superior Being in permitting me thus to be 
pained and tormented for no end ? I will endeavor to bear 
them with resolute desperation, merely because I am borne 
down by necessity to pain and affliction, and cannot possibly 
avoid them. 

" I lift up my eyes to the regions above, and contemplate 
the wonders of the starry frame. What an immensity of suns, 
systems, and worlds burst upon my view, when I apply the 
telescope to the spaces of the firmament ! How incalculable 
their number ! how immeasurable their distance ! how immense 



132 



WHY MAN SO ENDOWED. 



their magnitude ! how glorious their splendor ! how sublime 
their movements ! When I attempt to grasp this stupendous 
scene, my imagination is bewildered, and my faculties over- 
powered with wonder and amazement. I gaze ; I ponder ; I feel 
a longing desire to know something further respecting the nature 
and destination of these distant orbs ; but my vision is bounded 
to a general glimpse, my powers are limited, and when I would 
fly away to those distant regions, I find myself chained down, 
by an overpowering force, to the diminutive ball on which I 
dwell. Wherefore, then, were the heavens so beautifully 
adorned, and so much magnificence displayed in their structure, 
and why were they ever presented to my view, since I am 
never to become further acquainted with the scenes they unfold ? 
Perhaps this is the last glance I shall take of the mighty con- 
cave before my eyes have closed in endless night. 

" f Wherefore was light given to him that is in misery — to a 
man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in ? ? Had 
I been enclosed in a gloomy dungeon, my situation had been 
tolerable; but here I stand, as in a splendid palace, without 
comfort and without hope, expecting death every moment to 
terminate my prospects ; and when it arrives, the glories of 
the heavens to me will be annihilated forever. 

"I behold science enlarging its boundaries, and the arts 
advancing toward perfection. I see numerous institutions 
organizing, and hear lectures on philosophy delivered for the 
improvement of mankind, and I am invited to take a part in 
those arrangements which are calculated to produce a general 
diffusion of knowledge among all ranks. But of what use is 
knowledge to beings who are soon to lose all consciousness of 
existence ? It requires many weary steps and sleepless nights 
to climb the steep ascent of science ; and when we have arrived 
at the highest point which mortals have ever reached, we descry 
still loftier regions which we never can approach ; our foot- 
ing fails, and down we sink into irretrievable ruin. If our 
progress in science here were introductory to a future scene of 



MYSTERY OF GOD'S ATTRIBUTES. 



133 



knowledge and enjoyment, it would be worthy of being prose- 
cuted by every rational intelligence ; but to beings who are 
uncertain whether they shall exist in the universe for another 
day, it is not only superfluous, but unfriendly to their present 
enjoyments. For, the less knowledge they acquire of the 
beauties and sublimities of nature, and the more brutish, igno- 
rant, and sottish they become, the less they will feel at the 
moment when they are about to be launched into non-existence. 
Let the mass of mankind, then, indulge themselves in what- 
ever frivolous amusements they may choose ; do not interrupt 
their sensual pleasures by vainly attempting to engage them 
in intellectual pursuits ; let them eat, drink, and revel, for 
to-morrow they die. All that is requisite is, to entwine the 
chains of despotism around their necks, to prevent them from 
aspiring after the enjoyment of their superiors. 

w In short, I endeavor to form some conceptions of the attri- 
butes of that Great Unknown Cause which produced all 
things around me. But my thoughts become bewildered 
amidst a maze of unaccountable operations, of apparent con- 
tradictions and inconsistencies. I evidently perceive that the 
Creator of the universe is possessed of boundless power, but I 
see no good reason to conclude that he exercises unerring wis- 
dom, unbounded goodness, and impartial justice. I perceive, 
indeed, some traces of wisdom in the construction of my body 
and its several organs of sensation, and of goodness in the 
smiling day, the flowery landscape, and the fertile plains ; but 
I know not how to reconcile these with some other part of his 
operations. How can I attribute the perfection of wisdom to 
One who has implanted in my constitution desires which will 
never be gratified, and furnished me with moral and intel- 
lectual faculties which will never be fully exercised, and who 
has permitted the moral world, in every age, to exhibit a scene 
of disorder? 

" I perceive no evidences of his benevolence in subjecting me 
to a variety of sorrows and sufferings, which accomplish no 



134 



GLOOMY REFLECTIONS. 



end but the production of pain ; in tantalizing me with hopes, 
and alarming me with fears of futurity, which are never to be 
realized, and in throwing a veil of mystery over all his pur- 
poses and operations. 

" Nor can I trace anything like impartial justice in the bestow- 
ment of his favors, for disappointments and sorrows are equally 
the lot of the righteous and the wicked ; and frequently it 
happens that the innocent are punished and disgraced, while 
the guilty are permitted to glory in their crimes. All that I 
can plainly perceive is the operation of uncontrollable power, 
directed by no principle but caprice, and accomplishing nothing 
that can inspire ardent affection, or secure the permanent hap- 
piness of rational beings. 

" Such are some of the gloomy reflections of a hopeless 
mortal, whose prospect is bounded by the grave ; and such are 
some of the horrible consequences which the denial of a future 
state necessarily involves. It throws a veil of darkness over 
the scenes of creation, and wraps in impenetrable mystery the 
purposes for which man was created ; it exhibits the moral 
world as a chaotic mass of discordant elements, accomplishing 
no end, and controlled by no intelligent agency; it represents 
mankind as connected with each other merely by time and 
place, as formed merely for sensual enjoyment, and destined 
to perish with the brutes ; it subverts the foundations of moral 
action, removes the strongest motives to the practice of virtue, 
and opens the floodgates of every vice ; it removes the anchor 
of hope from the anxious mind, and destroys every principle 
that has a tendency to support us in the midst of sufferings ; it 
throws a damp on every effort to raise mankind to the dignity 
of their intellectual and moral natures, and is calculated to 
obstruct the progress of useful science ; it prevents the mind 
from investigating and admiring the beauties of creation, and 
involves in a deeper gloom the ruins of nature which are scat- 
tered over the globe ; it terminates every prospect of becoming 
more fully acquainted with the glories of the firmament, and 



BIRTH OF ERROR. 



135 



every hope of beholding the plans of Providence completely 
unfolded. It involves the character of the Deity in awful 
obscurity ; it deprives him of the attributes of infinite wisdom, 
benevolence, and rectitude, and leaves him little more than 
boundless omnipotence, acting at random, and controlled by 
no beneficent agency. In short, it obliterates every motive to 
the performance of noble and generous actions, damps the 
finest feelings and affections of humanity, leads to universal 
scepticism, cuts off the prospect of everything which tends to 
cheer the traveller in his pilgrimage through life, and presents 
to his view nothing but an immense blank, overspread with the 
blackness of darkness forever." 

And who would wish to plunge himself into such a laby- 
rinth of mystery and doubt as this — to envelop himself with 
a cloud so thick as not to admit even a ray of light to cheer a 
solitary portion of his existence, brief as he makes it, with the 
supposition considered ? 

So much absurdity, such infatuation, would be unworthy a 
rational being. In all the departments of science and phi- 
losophy it would be counted worse than folly to reject such an 
amount of evidence bearing upon the truth of propositions, as 
is manifest here. But men of science often attempt to estab- 
lish the truth of a principle or problem by showing the 
unphilosophical nature and absurd consequences of a contrary 
course of reasoning and action ; and shall not the same method 
of demonstration be equally applicable and conclusive in the 
more vital and important subject before us ? 

There are two systems, the one falsehood and the ether 
truth. The former is, indeed, of man's creating; for God is 
truth, and one grand, universal system of truth only comes 
forth from his hand. The system of error first appeared at 
the introduction of sin, when was instituted an order of things 
that brought the opinions of man into variance with the ways 
of God. Falsehood then laid down her line, and declared it 
the boundary to which mankind might come in their earthly 



136 



WASTE, NOT IN GOD'S PLAN. 



journey, and Truth erected her sign, saying, "This is the way 
to light ; walk ye in it." The principles of the two are entirely 
antagonistic, so that if the correctness and the claims of one 
can be proved and maintained, the other need not, and cannot, 
arrogate to itself anything whatever. With these data, if it be 
found that the disbelief in immortality belongs more appro- 
priately to the system of falsehood than to the other ; that all 
the reasonings and conclusions to this effect are but the off- 
spring of its own peculiar inductions ; that absurdity and 
inconsistency characterize every step, the whole ending in 
confusion, — it follows that immortality is a truthful problem ; 
for whatever is not of error is of the opposite. Since what- 
soever abides the keen scrutiny of analysis, and the test of 
harmoniously-wrought principles, justly commends itself to the 
consideration and reception of every candid mind, so this 
theorem, sustaining an admirable consistency in all its parts, 
and culminating in a beautiful and grand result, must rationally 
take sides with truth ; and God, the great Geometrician of the 
universe, has seemed to place it there. 

In the great book of nature and of providence, of which 
God is the Author, there are problems which we, with the 
utmost power of expansion allowed by earthly cultivation, can- 
not solve ; but this fact only strengthens the belief in a future 
life, for the veil of mystery would receive additional thickness to 
suppose he presents them to us merely that we may waste 
ourselves in vain efforts to comprehend them. Waste, appar- 
ently, is no part of God's plan. He has no delight in it. 

In both of these books there are not only manifest problems 
of difficult solution, but there are sealed leaves. ~No art of 
alchemy, no mortal power, can loosen them. They have 
always remained inscrutable by man, and always will, if he is 
confined to this world, unless a new administration takes the 
place of the present ; and not being able to conceive a better 
one than now exists, we might as well deal with its mysteries 
as undertake to surround ourselves with those more intricate 



PROBLEMS WILL BE SOLVED. 



137 



still. Are none ever to know what is hidden there — whether 
it relate to the plans of God, to the interests of man, or 
neither ? But why be so curious ? some may ask. But is not 
curiosity a divinely-implanted principle, and can it be for mere 
tantalization ? Turn whichever way we will, we find no satis- 
factory basis upon which to rest, until we come to a time when 
these leaves will be unsealed, and the secret things shall be 
brought to light ; and as this comes not within the range of man's 
present observation, is there any alternative but to conclude 
it will come in the future? Admitting this, we have a key 
to a thousand examples that would otherwise appear meaning- 
less and worthless — a clew to unravel the mystic threads 
woven into the divine economy. How it dispenses light, dif- 
fuses joy, and permeates everything with blessing ! If it be 
not true, who would not hug so delightful an illusion, and 
clasping it to his breast, like Cicero, be "pleased with the 
mistake," since the good it brings, and the cheering hope, so 
far outweigh anything on the other side ? 

"In opposition to the desponding reflections and gloomy 
views of the sceptic, it inspires the virtuous mind with a lively 
hope, and throws a glorious radiance over the scenes of crea- 
tion, and over every part of the government of the Almighty. 
It exhibits the Self-existent and Eternal Mind as an object of 
ineffable sublimity, grandeur, and loveliness, invested with un- 
erring wisdom, impartial justice, and boundless benevolence, 
presiding over an endless train of intelligent minds formed 
after his image, governing them with just and equitable laws, 
controlling all things by an almighty and unerring hand, and 
rendering all his dispensations ultimately conducive to the 
happiness of the moral universe. It presents before us an 
unbounded scene, in which we may hope to contemplate the 
scheme of Providence in all its objects and bearings ; where the 
glories of the divine perfections will be illustriously displayed ; 
where the powers of the human mind will be perpetually ex- 
panding, and new objects of sublimity and beauty incessantly 



138 DOCTRINE OF IMMORTALITY USEFUL. 



rising to the view, in boundless perspective, world without end. 
It dispels the clouds that hang over the present and future des- 
tiny of man, and fully accounts for those longing looks into 
futurity which accompany us at every turn, and those capacious 
powers of intellect which cannot be fully exerted in the present 
life. It presents the most powerful motives to a life of virtue, 
to the performance of beneficent and heroic actions, to the prose- 
cution of substantial science, and to the diffusion of useful 
knowledge among all ranks of mankind. It affords the strongest 
consolation and support amidst the trials of life, and explains 
the reasons of those sufferings to which we are here exposed, 
as beinG: incentives to the exercise of virtue, and as working 
f for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' 
It affords us ground to hope that the veil which now intercepts 
our view of the distant regions of creation will be withdrawn, 
and that the amazing structure of the universe, in all its sub- 
lime proportions and beautiful arrangements, will be more 
clearly unfolded to our view. It dispels the terrors which 
naturally surround the messenger of death, and throws a 
radiance over the mansions of the tomb. It cheers the gloomy 
vale of death, and transforms it into a passage which leads to 
a world of perfection and happiness, where moral evil shall be 
forever abolished, where intellectual light shall beam with 
effulgence on the enraptured spirit, and where celestial virtue, 
now so frequently persecuted and contemned, shall be enthroned 
in undisturbed and eternal empire. " 

Were it that all this would prove a failure in the end, yet a 
life with such anticipation would be better than to be wholly 
without it ; but when reason opens a fair prospect that the 
reality is attainable, — that it may be given — an actual pos- 
session, the title sure, and the inheritance all it is said to be, 
— it becomes all mankind eagerly to seek and cherish it. 

" It is not a true story," said a matron to a child who was 
reading with delight the fascinating tale of romance. There 
was disappointment in the look of that young face, and sad- 



/ 



BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY DESIRABLE. 139 



ness in her tone, as she said, " Don't tell me of it, for I wish 
to believe it." There was something there for our graver sub- 
ject; for, if so fair a thing as immortality be not true, say it 
not ; and if it be found an actual truth, a veritable story, dwell 
upon it, learn it, exult in and admire it continually and 
forever. 

We would not make mystery more mysterious by rejecting 
it, or be guilty of such daring impiety as to assert, or even 
suppose, that, in all the multiform operations of earth, and all 
the discipline of life, the Creator had no serious end. 

Better to think that 

" Life, though transient as the hour, 
Is yet the seed of an immortal flower." 



140 



ANALYSIS OF LIFE, 



CHAPTER IX. 

ELEMENTS OF PRESENT HAPPINESS A WARRANT FOR THEIR 
CONTINUANCE. 

Analysis of present Life the only Basis without Revelation. — Nature 
as a Guide. — Abundant Provision for Happiness. — Organs of Sense* 
— Social Joy. — The mourning Exile. — Sympathy. ■ — Imagination. — 
Genius. — Restoration of Order. — Truth gilding the gloomy Picture. 

" Pause for a while, ye travellers of earth, to contemplate the universe in 
which you dwell, and the glory of Him who created it ; to consider illimitable 
being, and to. see in virtue the essence and the element of the world ye are to 
inherit." — Anon. 

We have indirectly considered, in preceding chapters, the 
goodness and benevolence of God displayed in his works ; the 
distinctive peculiarities of his providential government, with 
its manifest regard for the happiness of his subjects, as indi- 
cating a continuance of life beyond the dissolution of the 
body. Are there shadows without substance? Oftentimes, 
in approaching truth, especially when we meet it in the dim 
and darkened aisles of nature, it appears a shadowy form with 
no distinct outline, and not until we and it emerge into more 
light does it assume its shape and beautiful proportion. We 
purposely tarry a little longer in the shade for a more par- 
ticular analysis of what surrounds us, that we may discover, 
if possible, new elements, or a latent power in those already 
seen to exist, that is not yet fully appreciated. 

Independently of revelation, we can have no idea of another 
life but by an analysis of this ; no conception of the character- 
istics of that life but such as is gained by the experiences of this 
present state. The measure of happiness is gauged according 



NATURE AS A TEACHER. 



141 



to the standard of' earth, a fulness, perhaps, being given unto 
it above that which is ordinary, inasmuch as the soul is formed 
so as constantly to desire and hope for a higher degree of per- 
fection in all things. It naturally has an ideal of something 
higher and better ; so that the untutored Indian, in his wildest 
state, ruminates of the good time coming, when the chase will 
"be better rewarded ; when nobler forests will be allowed him 
in which to range, and better opportunities be granted for the 
gratification of his desires. His life on earth is purely sensual, 
and all his conceptions of another are but as the antitype of 
this — r elevated, indeed, but of the same character. So, too, 
with the most cultivated and refined of pupils in the school of 
nature — their views are altogether modified by the peculiarity 
of their own interest and experience. They have but one 
stand-point, and all their observations are made there ; all 
their actions controlled by knowledge gained from thence. 
Nature, indeed, is a teacher of varied acquisitions. Long 
since she met God's approval. She has his certificate, and 
in her sphere of service she has always done her work wisely 
and well ; but what we say of her lessons of immortality is, 
that she teaches it by hints. If we would know of God, she 
telleth us more. But, as every creator reveals himself in his 
creations by a logical necessity, we are led to conclude that a 
powerful, wise, and benevolent Being presides over the uni- 
verse. Nature, then, is a transcript of the Divine Original, 
and, as far as she goes, imparts true knowledge ; but when 
we push inquiry, and ask of man, 

" Why formed at all? and wherefore as he is ? 
Has he -within him an immortal seed? 
Or does the tomb take all ? If he survive 
His ashes, where ? and in what weal or woe ? " 

then she points to certain phenomena, bids us observe certain 
indications, which suggest a course of action and life, and says, 
Possibly it may be so, probably it will. 

Nor is she faithless to her trust that she refuses more. She 



142 



PROVISION FOB MAN'S HAPPINESS. 



has dark places of her own, and a key to unlock them ; but there 
are things beyond her reach — "knots worthy of solution," but 
such as Deity alone can solve. 

Valuing her teachings and influence, however, we say unto 
her now, " Whither thou goest, I will go ; " and when we arrive 
at a boundary beyond which she cannot go, we will find another 
guide to conduct us on our way, and show us other scenes, and 
explain other sights. We have found pleasure in following her 
thus far, and confirmation of the truth we seek to establish ; but 
we retain the connection only so far as the present chapter leads 
us, keeping it for the more particular consideration of £he ele- 
ments which form the composition we call happiness, which 
seem to have in them the principle of perpetuity, and tell of 
endless combinations in an endless state. When we say man 
desires happiness, we utter that which is perfectly obvious. 
Every one knows it, every one feels it. When we couple with 
this God's care and regard for the gratification of this universal 
wish, we are led into a larger field, wherein are rich suggestions, 
paths pointing to immortality ; for, as we have said before, 
such careful, loving design will not, in all probability, spend 
itself upon a momentary work. These demonstrations are 
strong presumptive proof that God will continue to care for his 
grateful subjects through a period equal to the duration of his 
own infinite nature. If love is an evident quality of that nature, 
will it not forever remain so, of necessity prompting to one 
continual round of beneficent action eternally ? 

So plainly is the existence of this attribute written upon every- 
thing, we cannot question it. Is not, then, one of two suppositions 
manifestly true — either that the race is eternal upon the earth, 
thus furnishing scope for the full exercise of this attribute, or that 
there is an eternity for man, in contradistinction from time? If 
we should now and then, while here, witness a cessation of God's 
favors, a withdrawal of his watch and care, the inconstancy of his 
operations might give us ground to think that the time would come 
when they would cease altogether, in which case we must confess 



ORGAN OF SENSE. 



143 



danger, not only to immortality, but even mortality. Should 
love cease to be an attribute of the divine nature, woe unto us in 
this life, to say nothing of the life to come. But, under all the 
provocations of men, it never has failed, and therefore we think 
it steadfast. Since the time the sun was placed in the heavens, 
it has daily poured its life-giving beams upon the world. Day 
and night, labor and rest, have alternated to meet the necessities 
and well-being of man. The seasons have come and gone in 
regular succession, each bringing appropriate gifts to gladden 
human life. The clouds have scattered their treasures to enrich 
the domains of the lords of earth ; and not only this, with utility 
is combined much of beauty. The material world, as the work 
of God, would, or ought to be, interesting to us were all its 
blessings brief, were there no elements beyond immediate adapta- 
tion to pressing physical want. " How much more interesting, 
then, if, upon examination, we discover these more gross and 
palpable contributions to our common and most pressing wants 
to be but as the bread and meat bestowed on starved bodies, in 
comparison with countless and boundless expressions of the ten- 
derest sensibily lavished upon intelligent, appreciating souls !" 

We might have existed in a world without any ornament, 
been formed so as to take no delight in pleasant sights, agreeable 
sounds, or sweet odors ; but that it would be altogether a lower 
order of existence we are ready to admit. It would be merely 
animal, requiring far different aliment for its growth, and very 
different treatment from the loftier plant of celestial origin we 
are conscious of possessing. 

Five senses, with acute perceptions, are given unto us, as so 
many ministers of pleasure ; and to which of these are we ready, 
at any time, to say, " Go thy way ; I have no need of thee." 
Deprived of one, we mourn over it as a sad deprivation, as a 
closing up of a very important avenue, a channel through which 
happiness had been wont to come. How varied the joy that 
comes through the medium of sight ! Take it in one direction, 
and that in a description of a modern writer, who drank at the 
fount of Nature, bubbling in the wilderness. 



144 



DELIGHT IN NATURAL SCENERY. 



M I gaze with admiration on the trees, the beautiful trees, 
which I find in great numbers, and of many kinds. For the 
time I am absorbed in them. Flowers are emblems ; beautiful 
emblems, indeed, of all beautiful thoughts and things. The 
trees take higher ground ; they are not types ; they aspire to a 
loftier admiration ; they have a personality of their own. They 
raise their heads, and stretch their giant arms to the heavens. 
The flowers brook confinement ; a little pot of earth and a green- 
house meet their wants. They are ephemeral, and claim no 
peculiar affinity with hills, and dells, and rocks, nor yet with 
light, shade, and clouds. The trees stand forth to view as a 
visible and indispensable part of the great whole. And how 
curious it is to observe the graceful creatures varying and 
changing their garb, not only with the season, but with the 
hours of the day, and always in exquisite harmony with all about 
them ! There are their morning and evening shadows, shorten- 
ing or lengthening to the view ; their dense shade under the 
meridian sun, and their gauze and lace- work of every texture 
displayed against the sky at evening. Upon the hills they 
present one appearance, in the dells and vales another. Some- 
times they present a barrier to the view, beyond which all is 
doubtful or unknown, huge genii keeping the portals of knowl- 
edge, screening from superficial observers the solemn mysteries 
of the future and the profound. Again, their spreading branches 
indulge us with glimpses of the sky, or of the distant fields and 
hills. Stroll upon the plain, and you find every various form 
portrayed, and even minutest sprigs and tiny leaves pencilled in 
perfect relief against the deep-blue sky. Mount the hills, and 
these same trees are seen nestling down in soft repose among the 
beautiful evening clouds, or the purple and rosy haze. Reclin- 
ing in the grateful shade of sympathetic trees, philosophers have 
sought out fundamental principles, poets have breathed tenderest 
inspirations, Christians have prayed fervently and poured out 
boundless praise to God. Through the perforated canopies 
many a new-born soul has gazed with ecstasy upon the starry 



SOUL SUPERIOR TO TEE SENSES. 



145 



glories of a new-found God, swelling with an unutterable sym- 
pathy with the great Creator of the universe which he has 
striven in vain to understand. It is an earnest of the future, 
higher, heavenly state." The latter idea, however, is not 
exactly what we are endeavoring to sustain at present, though 
not at variance with it. We simply say that those things which 
minister so abundantly to this one sense, are but elements in 
the cup of happiness which God has prepared, and presents so 
freely to his creatures. This " beauty is something superadded " 
to existence, says Bower, "for no other conceivable purpose 
than that of imparting pleasure." What is true of sight is 
true, also, of all the other senses. Throughout there is a 
design beyond mere existence. There is a wide diffusion of 
joy ; and will love put a sudden and violent end to all this ? 

After special preparation, and special delight in imparting, 
will life be taken away, and there come the cessation of all 
these joys, and all capacity to enjoy? 

But what is it that enjoys ? Because the eye looks out upon 
delightful objects, it is not this that is made happy ; because 
harmonious sounds are heard, it is not the ear that exults in 
the exquisite pleasure ; nor is it that the organ of smell 
itself rejoices because regaled by the many fragrant things 
about it. These senses convey impressions to an appreciating 
spirit, and from this source come the manifestations of delight 
we witness in others, or experience in ourselves. 

That the latter is not dependent upon the senses is evident 
from the fact already noticed, that, as one by one they fail, the 
sensibilities of the soul are not diminished, but rather increased, 
and made more keenly alive to the impressions it does receive. 
We see death, too, stilling these operations altogether. Pleas- 
ing sights and sounds, and delicious fragrance, may all exist as 
before, but the senses that were wont to take them up and carry 
them within are all unconscious. The subject of their minis- 
trations still lives, however, with its yearnings for happiness ; 
and because of it we infer that it will be ministered unto in 
10 



146 



SOCIAL AFFECTIONS, 



some other way. Spirit is God's, and remaineth at his dispo- 
sal, as well as the methods of ministration he may choose to 
adopt. 

The nice arrangement of the organs of sensation is an 
unspeakably joyous element in this life ; but God is abun- 
dantly able to make the soul happy independently of all 
these, and the exhibitions of care during this brief period of 
existence seem to say there are greater things in reserve ; that 
things here are but imperfect shadows of what shall yet appear. 

Herein is manifest "both an appeal of exquisite tenderness 
to man's present susceptibility, and a foreshadowing of future 
presentations to a susceptibility which, by each day's experi- 
ence, is being, and will be, immeasurably enlarged." 

Another most unequivocal indication of God's regard for the 
happiness of his creatures, is the distribution of the kindly and 
social affections, those things "which stand foremost among 
our primary impulses, and which are prompt to act before 
reason can come into play, or the voice of conscience be heard, 
standing as ever-watchful sentinels to increase the joys and 
lessen the sorrows of our mortal lot." 

What a beautiful aspect is this in our world — the source of 
wide-spread happiness and occasion of elevated and untold joy ! 
Mankind are thus made, as it were, the guardians of each 
other. Merged into one brotherhood by the common link of 
humanity, if a chord of joy or sorrow be touched in one, it 
finds a response in many others, though oceans separate, and 
voices are unknown. A few years since a sound of woe came 
over the waters, from a people whom famine had visited. 
They were rapidly falling before the dread destroyer, and in 
their agony they cried, " Send us bread, or we die." As the 
appeal was sounded upon our shores, sympathy, like an electric 
thrill, ran through the hearts of the people. There was no 
kindred blood in their veins to be quickened by the call, no 
peculiar claim to interest or charity, but simply that feeling 
which allies man to his brother man through all God's world. 



MAN ENNOBLED BY AFFECTION, 



147 



It was this which sent back vessels freighted with generous 
and substantial proofs of their common regard, by which a peo- 
ple were enabled to go bravely on, notwithstanding the deter- 
mined march of the spectral foe. Thus these God-implanted 
powers and principles make this earth a scene in which we 
delight to be actors. These are redeeming: features in our 
fallen world, connecting links to bind us unto it, and yet 
these would make us more than willing to leave it, provided 
the soul can find assurance that they will be perpetuated in 
another world, and in a higher degree of perfection. If that 
which is capable of yielding so much happiness in an imper- 
fect state may have the scope and development of a perfect state, 
how delightfully captivating to imagination does the prospect 
appear ! 

The more perfect and extensive the plans of action, carried 
on by united and harmonious efforts of men whose measures 
are concerted solely for the common benefit of mankind, so 
much higher is the place we award them in the scale of being, 
so much greater their attainment in loftiest virtue, and their 
exemplification of godlike principles and spirit. 

The universal and involuntary tribute rendered to such is, 
" Yv r ell done." A thousand tender beatings form the pulsations 
of the great heart of humanity, which, like living strokes, 
move the complex machinery of the great system — the broth- 
erhood of man ; and if it work for the well-being and happiness 
of men here, then infinitely more so under more favorable cir- 
cumstances — such as might be afforded by being taken where 
the immediate superintendence of the original and skilful Con- 
triver would be constantly enjoj^ed, and where ease and beauty 
would supersede the loss and distressing frictions we know so 
much about now. But, to leave this general care for the general 
good, and come to particulars, we find God setting "the soli- 
tary in families," and by this beneficent arrangement developing 
a still more genial side to nature, in providing for the exercise 
of the finer sensibilities which he has planted so richly in the 



148 



LOVE IS POWER. 



soil of the heart. As the dews of love fall there, and the 
copious showers of affection descend, what fairer sight appears 
in all God's field ? Poets have tasked themselves to the utmost 
for beautiful imagery, that they might show forth its loveliness 
to the world ; but it refuses to be embodied in words, or to be 
confined by the forms of human art. All language is tame to 
him who realizes in his own happy experience the singular 
strength, vigor, and gladness it gives to the spirit. 

O love ! as it flows through an unbroken family circle, how 
like to a fathomless ocean — a boundless, shoreless thing; but 
what answers to an adequate portrayal? 

The sighs and murmurings of ocean start no tears of anguish. 
If, indeed, we speak poetically of "weeping briny tears," it is 
from unconscious eyes, and their fall wrings out no bitter 
answering drop in return. The great waves flow ceaselessly 
against an insensible, rocky shore, and no solicitude is stirred, 
for it is an inanimate thing. The stars and silvery gems, that 
nestle and sparkle on its placid bosom , kindle a transient glow ; 
but how unlike all to the hopes, the fears, and tears, the strange 
comminglings, that fill and thrill one loving human soul for 
the dear objects of its affection ! Every sigh, though it be but 
half breathed, is speedily met by that which answereth unto it. 
What careful protection, what gentle shieldings against the 
chilling breezes and threatening waves, although they be seen 
but in anticipation. Every tear excites pity, every woe stirs 
the fountains of commiseration, while over the birth of every 
new-born joy is general rejoicing, as that which heralds a new 
store of comfort. 

Say est thou, O reader, that this is an imperfect element, 
because of its wretched care and anxiety — the uncertainty and 
disappointments which sometimes attend it? We know that 
the keenest love has the keenest anxieties, and yet it is the most 
perfect thing that blesses us on earth. Remove it, and every 
tie that binds us to life is sundered, every charm is dissolved, 
and every hope is dead. Like the dreary waste around the 



LOVE AND DEATH. 



149 



base of the fierce volcano, which allows no living thing, so 
would the heart be if without love ; so would life be if with- 
out the refreshing streams that flow from this fountain. 

The objects of our love do indeed fade away. We lose them 
from our range of vision altogether ; we turn here and there, on 
every side, to find something that shall compensate for the loss, 
and we find it not. Love has been wounded, and there is no 
balm that can heal it — the arrow went so deep, balsam cannot 
reach the place; but, because of these things, for the reason 
that love dies not with the disappearance of the loved, but 
reaches on into the future, always following the absent with the 
tenderest vigils of memory and affection, we infer there is some- 
thing there to take hold of, the earnest of which we receive here. 

w If this winged and swift life be all our life," says Professor 
Wilson, "what a mournful taste have we had of a possible 
happiness ! We have, as it were, from some cold and dark 
edge of a bright world, just looked in and been plucked away 
again ! Have we come to experience pleasure by fits and 
glimpses, but intertwined with pain, burdensome labor, weari- 
ness, and indifference? Have we come to try the solace and 
joy of a warm, fearless, and confiding affection, to be then 
chilled or blighted by bitterness, by separation, by change of 
heart, or by the dread sunderer of loves — Death ? Have we 
felt in a fortunate hour the charm of the beautiful, that invests 
as with a mantle the visible creation, or have we found ourselves 
lifted above the earth by sudden apprehensions of sublimity, — 
have we had the consciousness of all these feelings, which 
seemed to us as if they might themselves make up a life, — 
almost an angel's life, — and were they f instant come and instant 
gone ' ? Have all these things been but flowers that we have 
pulled by the side of a hard and tedious way, and that, after 
gladdening us for a brief season with hue and color, wither in 
our hands, and are like ourselves — nothing?" 

When we look at the beauty and strength of this God-given 
principle, love, — when we see the extent, variety, and peculiar 



150 



FRIENDSHIP. 



character of the happiness it brings, — we are led to exclaim, 
Verily, it hath the elements of perpetuity within itself ; it shall 
not, cannot die. 

With a certain class of writers raptures are always incident 
to love — and why ? Because the highest conceptions of bliss are 
found here. They are fed at the board she spreads, they find 
peculiar nourishment in the aliment she provides ; yet it is not 
so much these ecstasies, but the calm, healthful flow, which, 
like the grateful stream, causes flowers to spring all along the 
borders of humanity, and little emerald patches to shine forth 
here and there — happy homes ; it is this which sends such 
blessing round the world, and fills it with gladness. It is this 
which constitutes the chief feature of earthly good, and makes 
us ardently desire that a good God will provide for its continuance 
when he takes us from present scenes. 

We might speak of another combination of friendship, and 
all the delightful associations connected with it — that principle 
which generates stronger feeling than the all-embracing one of 
which we first spoke — and not so strong as the all-absorbing 
one we last mentioned, but nevertheless a beautiful element in 
human society, as those will testify who are the happy recipients 
of its favors. But we pass these examples. 

Some idea of its worth, and of the value of all these things, is 
seen in the musings of the illustrious exile on his lonely isle, 
who gives vent to his feeling in such despairing tones as to 
touch our hearts : — 

" Society, friendship, and love, 
Divinely bestowed upon man, 
O, had I the wings of a dove, 
How soon would I taste you again ! 
O, tell me I yet have a, friend, 
Though a friend I am never to see." 

If so much care is manifest in the completion of the social 
being, what shall we say of the provisions made for the intel- 
lectual nature ? The superiority of man over all other orders of 
creation is seen in his intelligence. There is a sort of gregari- 



PERCEPTION. 



151 



ous instinct among animals that answers somewhat to the social 
feeling ; but when we come to a higher plane, — that of thought, 
— and speak of a living, reasoning, active principle, which 
prompts, guides, explores, and searches, then we find man 
alone, above all other creatures God has made, more like the 
Creator. 

The constitution of the human soul is a wonder of organism, 
each part so arranged as to secure the harmonious cooperation 
of the others, while all are made to promote man's happiness and 
advantage. Look at the perceptive faculty. What a world of 
enjoyment it opens, and how varied the attractions of that world ! 
All the beautiful sights and sounds in Nature would be com- 
paratively tame and meaningless without the aid of this faculty 
to bring out their secret forces and beauties, and. show why 
and to what end they exist, and what new purposes they may 
be made to subserve. 

Perhaps none would tell us in more glowing terms of the un- 
speakable delight derived from this source than Sir Isaac New- 
ton ; or perhaps he might find language too poor, and silently, 
yet eloquently, point to that moment of concentrated pleasure 
when Heaven sent him an apple as he sat under the shade of a 
fruitful tree, and he thought of affinities and relations until 
that discovery of Nature's laws which will remain a blessing 
to science through all time. The slight, yet richly-laden breeze 
that fanned his brow at that time took up the words, Triumphal 
achievement ! and carried them round the world, thus bringing 
to the thinking philosopher what one has been pleased to call 
"additional immortality" — the perpetuation of his name and 
memory among men. Something of this intense delight was 
realized also by him who started from his reverie, and with 
wildly-beaming eye repeated again and again, "I have found 
it — I have found it ! " A multitude of instances might be ad- 
duced — the records of enthusiastic men, who have found the 
chief joy of their lives in this direction. But it may be said, 
these are the few in possession of more than ordinary gifts, with 



152 



REFLECTION. 



powers of perception rarely equalled, and consequently with 
greater capacity for achievement and enjoyment. 

But this is no insignificant item in the happiness of all men. 
It is a pleasure diffused over the whole plain of human exist- 
ence, and because some experience greater intensity of thought 
and action, it argues not that all those who come not up to the 
same standard are unhappy. 

" When we say that any creature is as happy as it is capable 
of being, we express its perfect enjoyment ; the lowness of the 
capacity does not lessen this perfection ; " therefore the per- 
ceptive faculty is a universal blessing, yielding its myriad 
revelations to cheer and elevate the world. 

But further, man has reflective powers. " We not only per- 
ceive an object, but also, by reflection, glance from the object 
to its cause and design, its conformity or want of conformity 
to its design, its relation to other objects of its own and of 
other classes. We compare, contrast, and combine objects; 
we gauge and measure the movements of our own souls ; we 
estimate our own worth, or want of it ; we lay a foundation 
of all improvement in a well-ascertained knowledge of the 
need of improvement, and of its possibility. It gives a real 
and immeasurable value to ideas, by stamping them with the 
characteristic of permanency, — for, once admitted, ideas are 
ours in perpetuity. Of no other property are we so completely 
the possessors ; even we ourselves can never completely alienate 
them." 

These powers stand as so many artificers to prepare and 
embellish material wherewith to complete the structure of hap- 
piness. Their sphere is wide indeed — boundless — neither 
confined to any one period of time, past, present, or future, 
but embracing and ranging over all. Scanning the past, it 
brings recollection ; and who does not know happy hours that 
have been glorified by delightful memories — seasons that have 
been made peculiarly joyous by nothing save sweet remem- 
brances? To this blessed ministry are we indebted for those 



HOPE. 



153 



hours of visitation, when the forms of the departed stand be- 
fore us, a living presence, as it were, when we almost see their 
smiles and feel their warm breath upon us. 

We have clasped the loved image that was brought to our 
side at such times, and essayed to follow it, and, with recol- 
lection for our guide, we have been able to do so through 
weeks, months, and even years. Ah, hallowed guide ! we 
revere thy power, and acknowledge the goodness that thus 
provided for us ! Some act, word, or scene is treasured and 
afterward recalled, just in season, it may be, to strengthen a 
good purpose, or develop an embryo resolution, which shall 
tell in an important sense on character, perhaps affect, or even 
decide, one's destiny for life. But, without attempting fur- 
ther recapitulation here, we pass to the realm of anticipation, 
into which we are ushered when thought employs itself on the 
future. How many blissful seasons are ours before the days 
come which fold the occasions within their own arms ! So often 
has observation taken note of this, it has been affirmed that by 
far the greater portion of the enjoyment of life is in anticipa- 
tion ; that the fairest things are those we persuade ourselves 
are coming. If the present be dark, we comfort ourselves with 
the thought that the future will be brighter ; and here we are 
met by Hope, another element that God has given to lighten 
the burdens of earth and sweeten the draught prepared for 
human lips. If present good take to itself wings and fly 
away, Hope cheerfully suggests that something will yet appear 
which will more than compensate for all that is gone : if pain be 
added to distress, and sorrow to both, she promises days of 
happy exemption from all ; if disappointment come, and clouds 
foretell a tempest of grief, she gives the sweet assurance that 
the retiring storm shall bring the smiling sun and shining bow 
— welcome pledges of a serene sky. 

It is a wonderful gift, one of the most powerful principles 
of the human mind. We find it at work everywhere. "It is 
the grand support of all mankind in tribulation — the main- 



154 IMAGINATION. 



spring of action throughout the earth. It is inscribed on the 
prison door, on the merchant's vessel, on the warrior's banner, 
on the pilgrim's staff, and on the pillow of the dying. It an- 
imates the lawyer at the bar, the preacher in the pulpit, the 
parent at the head of his family, and the starving poor while 
passing through the dreary winter. We plough in hope, we 
sow in hope, we reap in hope ; we live in hope, and we die in 
hope." It beams for the proudest, and cheers the humblest. 
Without it palaces are as dungeons ; with it, the lowliest cot- 
tage becomes a palace of happiness, of more than princely 
wealth and joy. 

Surely, then, Hope is an element of happiness, contributing 
almost enough of itself to assuage the sorrows of earth ; for, 
when woe and misery threaten, her soothing anodyne is always 
ready. 

But, further, man is an imaginative being. God might have 
made us prosaic, might have clipped the wings of fancy, or 
rather given none at all, and kept us down among the actual- 
ities, the stern, cold, and commonplace things of a cheerless, 
narrow, and monotonous existence. There are some people 
we are wont to call prosy, matter-of-fact persons ; and why ? 
Because they are destitute of fine conceptions, and are wanting 
in an appreciation of beautiful images — that discrimination 
which makes one happier and better, as it has no inconsiderable 
influence in the development of the higher nature. Seemingly 
the divine end in the endowment of the soul with the imagina- 
tive faculty was simply its elevation and happiness. It is 
chiefly engaged in the creation of new things, bringing new 
combinations to excite fresh interest and wonder with unceasing 
industry. It keeps, as it were, a patent-office, where every 
imaginable variety appears in every possible department, made 
attractive by numberless forms of beauty, by countless models 
of exquisite finish, all of which are fruitful in suggestions of 
ease and comfort, or utility and more essential good. 

But how shall we analyze this thing which has power to 



IMAGINATION. 155 



roam the earth and pierce the heavens — one moment ranging 
among the scenes of this sublunary sphere, the next knocking 
at mysterious abodes in an infinitely distant realm ? It is in- 
deed wonderful ! Of what bright creations is it the author ! 
When a guide to intellect, we are presented with an array of 
fables, parables, figures, and metaphors, the redolence of which 
well nigh intoxicates the mind by its very excess. The brilliant 
display fascinates and charms, and when the beauty of their 
hidden meaning begins to manifest itself, the eye sparkles, the 
countenance lights up with joy, and the whole soul rejoices. 
Such is its power in only one direction. 

. w The Creator has filled the material world with analogies 
which make an irresistible appeal to the attentive observer ; 
every material object having the power to suggest ideas incal- 
culably more important than anything belonging to itself." 

Imagination, then, has the uncounted nurses of Nature at 
her command. Fed and nourished thus, she is a dainty, 
sprightly thing, flying to execute her commission, be it what 
it may, never refusing loftiest flight or boldest venture. The 
audacity of man may have pushed it too far at times, but 
God intended this faculty for happiness, and because some 
have misused the gift, it argues nothing against the intent or 
the power of the faculty to answer its end. Remove it, and 
from the mental horoscope is expunged one of its brightest 
stars ; that portion of our pathway which had been illuminated 
by these gentle beams would be forever dark. The eye would 
perceive no beauty there ; the ear would fail to discover those 
musical cantos of delightful expression it had been wont to hear, 
and the dormant heart testify to the reality of the fearful blank. 
Where, then, would be the poetry of life? Ah, happy knowl- 
edge ! that we are not left to the miserable echo of the ques- 
tion. Poetry, in its divinest sense, is ours. God has written 
it on every page of the book of nature, and given it to us to 
learn, bidding us allow its inspiration into our souls, as that 
which will enlarge and enrich them. 



156 



GENIUS. 



"Poetry," says one, "when doing its highest office, is noth- 
ing more than an attempt to make the things that are seen the 
prints of the things invisible. Imagination then becomes a 
prophet, by making Nature, with all her treasure-house of 
imagery, the analogue of what shall be hereafter ; or — for it 
comes to the same thing — of what is already in the human 
soul, waiting for its expression and symbolization." 

Another source of happiness is genius — " ambition's boasted 
wing" — spoken of as a "natural penetration, which enables 
its possessor to discern more than the superficial aspects and 
obvious relations of facts, conjoined with a natural energy, 
aptitude, and versatility of power, which enable their possessor 
to evoke his perceptions from their recondite existence, to 
embody them, and give them to the contemplation and com- 
prehension of the world." 

Separate from imagination, it does its own work, and adds 
its own store of blessing ; for whatever enlarges the range of 
thought, of vision, and appreciation, — - whatever increases 
ability and extends power, — is, or should be, an unspeakably 
joyous element in human society. It has its admirers, its wor- 
shippers, and rich possessors. Happy those who are minis- 
tered unto by it, as well as those who minister. Indeed, it 
has been said that one of God's " best gifts " to man is the 
power to communicate, the ability to impart, of his blessing 
unto others — that here he is most like his Divine Parent, 
whose infinite nature finds supreme delight in continual giving. 
That the most benevolent man is the happiest is the universal 
testimony of consciousness and observation ; not simply that 
benevolence which lavishes an abundance of coin indiscrimi- 
nately, but that genial kindliness that metes out the measure 
of sympathy and encouragement often more coveted, giving 
just that which is needed, though it be at a sacrifice. 

We may have "thoughts, conceptions, theories, schemes, and 
plans, beautiful, rational, promising, and even exhilarating;" 
yet if we have no power to embody them in action, we essen- 
tially fail in the whole work of life. 



BENEVOLENCE AND ADOBATION. 



157 



It is only when our precepts are fortified by example that 
they have weight. It is only when we follow the unselfish 
promptings of our God-appointed monitor, and go on impart- 
ing as God hath given us ability, that we know the full bless- 
edness of communicating. As the Lord Jesus said, "It is 
more blessed to give than to receive." 

Voices come from the low haunts of infamy and crime, from 
those engaged in a work of rescue, to the same effect. " All is 
forbidding," says one, "often revolting; but O the blessedness 
of saving men, of exalting souls ! Life shall be a willing sacri- 
fice in the blessed work." 

Everything invites to the exercise of this gift. The scale 
runs " from the casual ministration to the commonest of merely 
physical wants, up to the deliberate consecration of one's whole 
soul to the redemption of every soul on earth from every ill 
that flesh is heir to." As God delights in imparting, so he has 
made it a source of peculiar satisfaction to his creatures ; and 
those who are the most active in this direction come nearest to 
the divine standard, and experience fuller and richer mani- 
festations of the divine favor. 

Once more : man is so formed as to be an adoring and rever- 
ential being ; to be moved with admiration by superior excel- 
lence even in his fellow-men ; much more to be stirred with 
awe in view of the unequalled sublimity of Jehovah's char- 
acter. 

We consider him as sadly deficient, as unworthy, who shows 
nothing but indifference to superior virtue and goodness ; as 
dead to all true and noble feeling ; callous to every worthy 
principle ; altogether below the ordinary standard imposed by 
human judgment. It is a departure from the rule which God 
gave to all men at the beginning, and therefore false. In pro- 
portion to the appreciation of excellence is the approximation 
to the uncreated source of it. 

" Virtue alone is happiness below." It exalts man to fellow- 
ship with his Maker, and brings him into sympathy with the 



158 



MAN'S ENDOWMENTS PROPHETIC. 



Infinite. What shall we say, then, of these rich endowments 
of our nature? Are they not immortal? Are they not so 
many earnests and foretastes of another and better state — 
another and higher life? Do not these powers, manifestly 
capable of immense accession, seem to furnish warrant for 
their continuance beyond the grave ? Will not these things — 
sources of happiness here, — be richer in joy when free from 
the limitations and contractions of earth and sense? 

When we look at the attractive combination formed by the 
union of all these elements ; at the abundant provision made 
for the social, moral, and intellectual nature of man, we are 
forced to ask the question, " Has God hung down these pic- 
tures from his throne as the most perfect imprints of the good 
and the fair, and not rather as dim shado wings of what may 
be, as helps to our faith, and stairs to our thoughts, climbing 
toward realms of a more refulgent summer, or a more endur- 
ing spring ? " Surely affections that are planted so deep in 
the soul, sympathy so all-pervading, perception so keen, reflec- 
tion so penetrating, recollection so pleasing, hope so bright, 
imagination so wide in its range, and adoration so apprecia- 
tive, — surely these were not given to wither like flowers by 
the chill hand of death. 

Their exercise here forecasts the ineffable felicity which would 
result from perfect development in a perfect sphere. God, it 
seems, would never lavish such wealth of nature upon the 
creature of a day, would never awaken such hopes and kindle 
such aspirations, — hopes and aspirations that reach out after 
eternity for satisfaction, — unless he had provided for their 
continued exercise and support. 

So far from even supposing their destruction, it is more 
natural, more reasonable and consistent, to conclude that 
greater perfection awaits them — that a more entire union 
of all these elements will yet appear in the future, insuring 
not only the perpetuation of what we call our richest joys now, 
but an infinite accession to them all. 



GLOOMY PICTURE GLORIFIED. 



159 



Union and perfect harmony give great facility of action in 
all cases that fall under our observation ; but who shall meas- 
ure the felicity if these elements of which we have spoken 
arise to newness of power and action in a faultless sphere? 
When they shall flourish in the clear air of the celestial 
regions, then, and then only, shall we realize our loftiest 
ideals. Nature, in her sublimest aspects, does not give us what 
we desire. If there be nothing better, then we must go into 
the chamber of our souls, and write upon its walls the despair- 
ing sentence, Only a mockery! — say to our hopes, Ye are 
phantoms, — to our yearnings, I know not whence ye are, — 
to our anticipations, Ye are hopeless illusions. 

Tell Genius to clip her wings, and Fancy to stay her flight ; 
bid Reason veil her eye, and Excellence withhold her allure- 
ments ; for there is nothing in all this but what shall soon cease 
to be. But stay; thou art not condemned to this gloomy 
work ! Come forth from the dismal retirement, erase the sen- 
tence if thou hast written it, for a "voice comes from afar," 
telling of a surer light, and we turn to meet it ; or if choice 
bid thee remain, raise the curtain of the darkened windows, and 
let the glorious sunlight in, and thou shalt read clear- written 
lines, that have hitherto been invisible ; thou shalt discover 
beauty where before were distorted shadows, and order where 
only chaos reigned ; yea, more, shalt find 

" God diffused through every part, 
God himself triumphant in the heart." 



160 



THE SUBE GUIDE. 



CHAPTEE X. 

GLORY AND CERTAINTY BEAM EROM REVELATION. 

The sure Guide. — Revelation a Sun. — Harmony between Nature and Reve- 
lation. — Bible not dealing in direct Assertions. — Patriarchs influenced 
by the Belief of endless Life. — Prophetical Writings. — Christ. — The 
Apostles. — Vision of John. 

" 'Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts, 
Explains all mysteries, except her own, 
And so illuminates the path of life, 
That fools discover it, and stray no more." — Cowper. 

Thus far we have been guided by Reason and Nature, and 
have only arrived at the point of man's probable immortality. 
Both conscious and unconscious nature have indeed suggested 
it; the loves, hopes, desires, and aspirations of the one, and 
the rocks, groves, streams, and harmonies of the other, have 
all had voices to lift up in support of it ; but nowhere have 
we reached absolute certainty ; at no time has it appealed to 
the understanding with the force of an actual demonstration. 
We have had evidence ; but the basis on which it rested was 
not so solid as we could wish. 

We have had strong presumptive proof ; but who is satisfied 
with presumption, especially in the most important of all ques- 
tions, final destiny? 

We have asked of Reason, " Shall man live again?" and it 
has said, " It seems a logical deduction from the fact that men 
have universally desired and believed that it might be so. 
Men desire to be perfect, and to enjoy greater facilities for the 
acquisition of knowledge ; therefore it seems reasonable to 
suppose there will be ample scope for this desire ; and since, up 



SUMMARY OF PREVIOUS ARGUMENTS. 161 



to the last moment of earthly life, this remains in all its inten- 
sity, the conviction is strong, that an opportunity yet remains 
on the other side of time, a forecast of which is allowed here." 

We have observed man — the keenness of his moral per- 
ceptions, his foreboding of retribution, the inequalities of his 
condition, and seen in these things the shadows of things 
to come. 

We have inquired of Nature whereto life tendeth, and she 
tells us she knows no such thing as annihilation ; that such 
inexplicable mysteries attend it, it is wiser to reject it, though 
even the cause for rejection cannot be explained. 

The peculiar elements of earthly happiness have also in- 
clined us unto the belief that He who hath shown such special 
regard for the wants of mankind, in furnishing their terrestrial 
home, will also provide for their future necessities in an equally 
careful manner — yea, more, since that which survives earth 
and time is of infinitely greater consequence. 

Every step has given us additional confirmation, has strength- 
ened our belief in the probability of a future life ; but when 
we would know of a surety, and seek the requisite proof, we 
find, perchance, an echo, possibly a whisper, and, it may be, 
nothing but silence. The soul wearies with the unsatisfying 
round, and would fain emerge into a clearer light — a light 
that will give " form and comeliness " to many objects upon 
which it has long looked, but which have never assumed defi- 
nite proportions by reason of the darkness. The hour has come. 
We leave the long aisles of Nature — her dim galleries ; and 
have done with echoes and whispers. We shall use the twilight 
and lamplight of intellect, only so far as the faint or flickering 
rays may serve to increase the intensity of that radiance which 
shines so brightly on our future way ; we grope no longer among 
tottering ruins and broken arches, for the storm and time- 
defying pyramids are as sands, compared with the everlasting 
structure that rises in eternal beauty and grandeur about us 
now ; we cease from being anxious wanderers on an uncertain 
11 



162 REVELATION A 8 UK 

shore, for tidings come of a good harbor and a blessed country, 
and our fears are hushed and our troubles calmed. Kevela- 
tion, like a star, has appeared in the horizon — like a star — 
nay, rather, as a sun, to flood the earth with glory, and to 
bathe the world, as it were, in a sea of liquid light. We hail 
it as a harbinger of good to the souls of men, and look to it 
with eager expectation for that which every other source hath 
denied us. 

It comes as the dawning of a new era, the beginning of a 
new life, for plans and purposes are invested with new mean- 
ing ; the plants and flowers of existence — its duties and hopes 
— strike their roots deeper, and send their shoots higher under 
the influence, while the whole moral and spiritual realm shows 
wonderful freshness and vigor, and yet not what it shall be 
when it is subjected to broader action, and becomes more thor- 
oughly and perfectly receptive. What the refreshing shower 
is to the parched and thirsty earth in a time of drought such is 
revelation to the soul that feels the burning fever engendered 
by the miasmatic air to which it has been subject in some parts 
of nature. 

The lonely and benighted traveller forgets the fatigue and 
anxiety of a perilous journey, and feels fresh courage as he 
hears the sound of a human voice, or sees the curling smoke 
that tells him he is near the habitation of men. The mariner 
remembers not the dangers that threatened him and his tempest- 
tossed bark when the wide expanse about him is securely calm ; 
but traveller by sea or land, however great the danger, or 
wonderful the deliverance, never knew so great a joy, or expe- 
rienced so perfect security, as he who long and vainly sought 
for the priceless boon of immortality in nature, and suddenly 
found it in revelation. We say nothing of the authority on 
which this word of revealed truth rests. It is all-sufficient for 
us. Were it not, we yet might say with another, "I will 
abide the precepts, admire the beauty, revere the mysteries, 
and, as far as in me lies, practise the mandates, of this sacred 



REVELATION BELIEVED BY BEST MEN. 



163 



volume ; and should the ridicule of earth and the blasphemy 
of hell assail me, I shall console myself by the contemplation 
of those blessed spirits who in the same holy cause have toiled, 
and shone, and suffered. In the " goodly fellowship of the 
saints " — in the " noble army of martyrs " — in the society of 
the great, and good, and wise of every nation — if my sinful- 
ness be not cleansed, and my darkness be not illuminated, at 
least my pretensionless submission may be excused. If I err 
with the luminaries I have chosen for my guides, I confess 
myself captivated by the loveliness of their aberrations. If 
they err, it is in a heavenly region ; if they wander, it is in 
the fields of light; if they aspire, it is, at all events, a glo- 
rious daring ; and rather than sink with infidelity into the 
dust, I am content to cheat myself with their vision of eter- 
nity. It may, indeed, be nothing but delusion ; but then I 
err with the disciples of philosophy and of virtue ; with men 
who have drunk deep at the fountain of human knowledge, 
but who dissolved not the pearl of their salvation in the 
draught. I err with Bacon, the great confidant of nature, 
fraught with all the learning of the past, and almost prescient 
of the future, yet too wise not to know his weakness, and 
too philosophic not to feel his ignorance. I err with Milton, 
rising on an angel's wing to heaven, and, like the bird of 
morn, soaring out of sight amid the music of his grateful 
piety. I err with Locke, whose pure philosophy only taught 
him to adore its source, whose warm love of genuine liberty 
was never chilled into rebellion with its Author. I err 
with Newton, whose star-like spirit shot athwart the darkness 
of the sphere, too soon to reascend to the home of its na- 
tivity." 

If such believe it, why should not we? If such minds 
delight to bask in the sunlight of revelation, and have declared 
the blessedness of so doing, should we not take it to our em- 
brace more fully, and yield ourselves to its influence more 
entirely ? 



164 NATURE AND REVELATION HARMONIOUS. 



But before these were was revelation. On what did it stand, 
then? On God — the best foundation in earth or heaven. Its 
Author is divine, and its claim to the world's reception the best 
established claim on record ; therefore whatever it says of man, 
his history and destiny, his future life and its characteristic 
features, may be set down as unquestionable truth. Beyond 
this there is no appeal. 

Nature is indeed the handmaid of revelation — one but cor- 
roborates the other ; and this we might expect, since they boast 
a common parentage ; but we are compelled to admit that all 
proper, and the only adequate, faith rests entirely upon the latter. 
It harmonizes with the deductions of sound reason, and all its 
cherished principles ; but the low whispers of the one are not as 
the clear tones of the other. Hints are not as satisfying as assur- 
ances, and therefore it is that revelation rings out its jubilant 
anthems to him who is seeking for " glory, honor, immortality, 
and eternal life." Its confirming words quell doubt, and open 
" the map of God's extensive plan " in a new light. Then, as 
we look, — 

" Eternity's unknown expanse appears, 
Circling around and limiting our years," — 

and as time recedes, instead of a fearful silence and a dread 
blank, there come from over the boundary the voices of a great 
multitude, saying, " Come to our shores, for life on earth was 
but the beginning of the more perfect one into which we have 
been ushered." Yea, more ; the voice of the infinite God is heard 
above all, saying, " Come to my side, and I will show thee the 
meaning of thy strange discipline, and tell thee the secret of those 
ways thou wast wont to call unequal. Thou shalt see how, when 
thou wast defeated in a temporal end, it was that the endless 
might be enriched, and how at last Death came but to intro- 
duce to a broader, a holier, and loftier sphere." 

Since the time of the Christian revelation, the door of im- 
mortality has been left, as it were, ajar. We know what is 
inside, and until the time come for us to enter in and become 



THE BIBLE PRESUPPOSES IMMORTALITY. 165 



participants of things within, we rest in hope. It was a mem- 
orable day, a wonderful and glorious day, when He came who 
burst the bars and opened the gates, displaying what had 
before been shut out from mortal gaze. Hitherto the truth had 
been stamped upon the soul of man, but it had been much as the 
invisible lines, that wait appropriate action before taking the 
form of clear, intelligent sentences, " known and read of all." It 
was then "brought to light," "full-orbed and glorious," to shed 
a divine radiance over life, at least life in its true sense. 

The Scriptures, however, deal not so much in actual asser- 
tions respecting a future state, an endless life ; but, as if this was 
a matter plainly unquestionable, the inspired writers dwell upon 
the nature and employments of such a state ; the disposition it 
is necessary to possess ; the virtues that must be cultivated in 
order to be fitted for the exercise and enjoyment of future 
felicity ; and the duration, the everlasting nature of such a 
life. Having received particular and accurate knowledge of 
society in a certain locality, and having felt the influence 
radiating from such a centre, we need no argument to prove 
its existence. So, too, when the Bible tells us we shall "live 
again," and how we shall live, — when we feel the influence 
of eternity in remoulding and regenerating life and char- 
acter, — do we need arguments to prove its reality? While 
walking with nature, we thought it might be true ; but now, 
as we come to revelation, possibilities are lost in absolute 
knowledge. 

" Here celestial voices 
Hymn it unto our souls ; according harps, 
By angel fingers touched, sound forth still 
The song of our great immortality." 

The veil is removed, the vision is clear, and the soul made glad 
by the solemn yet joyful strains. We say not, however, that 
there was total blindness before this day, as some affirm who 
date the first recognition of the truth at the commencement of 
the Christian dispensation, and wrest the hope from the Jews — 



166 



BELIEF OF TEE PATRIARCHS. 



God's chosen, ancient people. As the belief of a future state 
lies at the very foundation of religion, it is impossible to suppose 
that a people whom the Almighty had chosen to be his wor- 
shippers, and the depositaries of his revealed will, should have 
remained ignorant of this interesting and fundamental truth, and 
have had their views confined solely to the fleeting scenes of the 
present world. Very different was this from the reality, if we 
credit the truth of their history. " Faith" was the grand prin- 
ciple of the patriarchs, and prophets, and saints of olden time ; 
and this includes a belief in the existence of God, and the re- 
wards and retributions of a life to come. In all their services and 
sacrifices, — in their integrity of life, and contempt of the world, 
— were they not plainly actuated by the conviction of the reality 
of a future and invisible world. So far from being " ignorant," 
God seems to have sent them a revelation beforehand, that their 
earthly pilgrimage might be cheered by hopes of better things. 
How did Abraham gain his blessed title, " Father of the faith- 
ful," except by animating an elect host by considerations of the 
endless consequences which hinged upon efficient action in this 
life? When he "went out, not knowing whither he went," and 
when he lifted the knife at the mountain altar over the child of 
promise, he had an eye upon things "within the veil." Im- 
mortal life and its rewards were never more a matter of reality 
to any mortal man than to him who thus "obeyed." He 
"looked for," he expected " a city which hath foundations, whose 
Builder and Maker is God." No such city met his eye as he 
journeyed through the earthly Canaan ; therefore we must of 
necessity suppose that his views and his desires extended beyond 
the limits of time, to other mansions more enduring than those 
made with hands. 

Moses, too, possessing his spirit in meekness and patience, 
through manifold affliction and persecution " endured as seeing 
Him who is invisible." In all his trials, temptations, disappoint- 
ments, and sorrows, he was buoyed up by the hope and expecta- 
tion of reward — a reward infinitely above all that earth had to 



FAITH OF MOSES. 



167 



offer ; for had he been content with such gain and such popu- 
larity, he might have been satisfied with the splendors of an 
Egyptian court, and the honors bestowed upon the accomplished 
son of Pharaoh's daughter : neither was it that he was eagerly 
looking for rich possessions in the goodly land, that would 
enable him to spend his declining days in luxury and ease, for 
he was not permitted so much as to enter the Canaan below. 
That which was so much the object of his anticipation, was 
none other than a celestial inheritance, before which all earthly 
titles grew pale and dim. When he climbed the top of Pisgah, 
and looked over the promised portion, although it was very fair, 
it was not like the " sweet fields, arrayed in living green," of 
which he doubtless had a glimpse as he lay down to die on his 
mountain couch ; for it is written of him, " he died in faith," and 
faith is "the conviction" of these things. Why should he 
choose, during his life, " to suffer affliction with the people of 
God, rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin," unless he was 
assured that his future destiny would be affected by his course of 
action on earth ? Evidently he lived not for this world ; and so 
it might be said of all the patriarchs whose names stand high on 
the records of the Old Testament church. They " confessed that 
they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth," and they lived as 
such, always declaring by their actions as well as words, " that 
they desired a better country, that is, a heavenly." When tor- 
tured by reason of their devotion to the Most High, they 
accepted not deliverance, "that they might obtain a better 
resurrection." 

The writings of the prophets are interspersed with passages- 
showing their hope in and confident expectation of a future life* 
and the consolation they derived from this source under the 
accumulated trials of probation. 

What but this sustained Job, when the tempests of adversity 
swept over him, leaving scarcely a single relic of his prosperity? 
When his heart was touched in the tenderest point, and bereft 
of all that he held dear, his triumphant language was, " I know 



168 



DAVID'S CONFIDENCE. 



that my Eedeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter 
day upon the earth : and though, after my skin, worms destroy 
this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." Thus was the 
almost overwhelming anguish of his soul mitigated by the belief 
that a happier future was yet in reserve, and that, though he 
was of "few days, and full of trouble," it mattered but little, 
since Jesus lived to reward at the last. 

David, in his meditations, was often beyond the scenes of 
time and sense, exulting in the boundless prospect of immor- 
tality. His soul rose as on an angel's wing, as he contemplated 
"fulness of joy" in God's presence, and "pleasures for ever- 
more" at his right hand. When disappointed, and pressed 
almost beyond human endurance by the burdens laid upon him 
by his envious foes and pretended friends, he looked up to the 
Eternal, saying, "I will behold thy face in righteousness; I 
shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness," and was 
comforted and encouraged to bear whatever was imposed upon 
him, since the future promised so much. 

If conflicting interests brought him into doubt and perplexity, 
he hied himself to the same source ; and again he says, "Thou 
shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to 
glory." When the pale messenger suggested a final termina- 
tion to his earthly career, he gave not way to lingering regrets, 
for he said in his heart, " I will fear no evil ; " " I shall dwell in 
the house of the Lord forever." "My flesh and my heart fail- 
eth ; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for- 
ever." What mean such confident declarations as these, but 
that the soul of Israel's shepherd was divinely taught to expect 
a peaceful gathering into the "green pastures " that border the 
" still waters " of the better land ? The hope of being one of the 
all-embracing fold of the heavenly Shepherd, after he had done 
with his own watchings, and fulfilled his own calling, constantly 
animated him, whether he roamed with his flocks through the 
quiet pastures of his father, or sat upon the throne with the 
power of a king. 



♦ 



ISAIAH'S PROPHECY. 169 

Over and above all was the felicity he hoped to enjoy when 
the " King of kings " should call him to his service in the 
upper temple ; when, having redeemed him from the grave, he 
should permit him to " sing of salvation forever and ever," in 
the courts of the Lord's house above, his disembodied and 
exulting spirit having no restraint in the holy endeavor to which 
his burning love prompted. 

The rapt spirit of Isaiah could not keep silence as he beheld 
the time when "the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and 
come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
heads ; " when "they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow 
and sighing shall flee away." Jeremiah forgot the cause of 
his mourning and lamentation for a time when he said, " The 
Lord is my portion ; " and Daniel saw the sun, moon, and stars 
grow dim before the " wise " who should " shine " in the kingdom 
of God " forever and ever." 

Surely the idea of an immortal life was not strange to the 
patriarchs and prophets of olden time ; and if they omitted 
to dwell upon it in minute detail, it was because "it was a 
truth so well understood, so generally recognized, and so es- 
sential to the very idea of religion, that it would have been 
superfluous to do so, or to bring it forward as a new dis- 
covery. Everywhere the doctrine is implied, if not abso- 
lutely affirmed. If Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were as 
unconscious as the rocky sepulchres to which they were com- 
mitted, would the timid servant at the f burning bush,' years 
afterward, have heard such an announcement as this for his 
encouragement — ? I am the God of thy father, the God of 
Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'? Would 
he have acknowledged such a relation, — peculiar still, for 
f I am' was the expression, not r I was,' — if they had ceased 
to be?" 

When these "were gathered to their fathers," so far from 
supposing the cessation of intelligent life and action, they were 
more than willing to bid adieu to the " few and evil days " of 



170 



CHRIST'S DECLARATION. 



their earthly pilgrimage, that they might join the " spirits of the 
just made perfect," and enjoy the congenial society of those 
eminent for piety, who had passed before them into the invisible 
world. 

It is not to be denied, however, that the clearest light comes 
fully to this subject from the gospel — that the twilight never 
disappeared until Christ, "the Light of the world," arose to scat- 
ter the darkness, and illumine the earth with his divine beams. 
And when he takes his place among the arrogant disciples of 
the schools, we find no argument in defence of immortality, 
but, as if it was a fact not to be questioned, instructions con- 
cerning a preparation for it are incidentally mingled in all his 
discourses. 

There were those who professed to disbelieve the truth in his 
day ; but see him turn from the Sadducean crowds, to declare 
of his followers " I give unto them eternal life, and they shall 
never perish." The devoted band that hung upon his hps and 
listened to his wonderful words were filled with inexpressible 
sadness as the end of his ministry drew near, and he was pass- 
ing out of sight ; but as a burst of sunshine through a dark 
cloud was that voice in the day of gloom, "In my Father's 
house are many mansions : if it were not so I would have told 
you. I go to prepare a place for you. And I will come 
again, and receive you to myself, that where I am, there ye may 
be also." When the last hymn had been sung, the last prayer 
uttered, and the last words of consolation had been addressed 
to his sorrowing disciples, — when the last mournful tragedy 
was being enacted, and he was about to reascend to his native 
throne, — he presented, as it were, a living confirmation of the 
truth in the dying thief, whom that memorable day should find 
with him "in Paradise." 

If the disciples had ever doubted, could they doubt it longer? 
Paradise — a place of delight — their Lord had prepared ; and 
how were they straitened until admittance should be granted 
them ! And of kindred feeling were the apostles, whose 



PAUL'S ASSURANCE. 



171 



expressions clearly demonstrate the certainty of an eternal state, 
and the reality of its miseries and its bliss, according to the 
soul's fitness for it. Paul, amid the varied tribulation of his 
lot, could say, " Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
worketh out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory ; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at 
those which are not seen ; for the things which are seen are 
temporal, but those which are not seen are eternal." When 
he saw his companions and Christian fellow-laborers falling 
around him, and he was reminded of the time when he must 
lay aside his own mortality, he could give expression to the 
perfect assurance, "For we know that if our earthly house of 
this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a 
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens ; " and when 
the angel was sent with the summons that the time of his de- 
parture was at hand, he considered his exit but as a welcome 
introduction to a blessed life, saying with his dying breath, 
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 
kept the faith : henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give 
me at that day ; and not to me only, but unto all them also that 
love his appearing." What visions, too, had the ardent and glow- 
ing Peter, of "an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and 
that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for" those who believed 
in, and loved, and served the Crucified ! When the foes of 
religion silenced the music of his voice by breaking the strings 
of life, there lingered strains that have never died out, concern- 
ing " lively hope," " crown of glory," and blessed " salvation." 
His last injunction, to "grow in grace and in the knowledge of 
Christ," would be strange hyperbole were there no life but this, 
and strangely at variance with any principle of rational action ; 
for this, when wisely conducted, is measured by the worth of 
the result. 

The apostles also dwell much upon the manner in which 
heavenly happiness is to be obtained, and of the disposition it 



172 



VISION OF JOHN, 



is necessary to possess in order to enjoy it forever, saying, 
"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. He that 
soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption ; but he 
that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." 
" To them who, by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for 
glory, and honor, and immortality," God will recompense "eter- 
nal life." He that " doeth the will of God," and he that " over- 
cometh," is the one to inherit, the one to become a pillar in 
God's temple, 

But it was given unto John — the beloved John — to know 
more and see farther than any other mortal man had ever seen 
or known. He had stood with Peter and James on the mount 
of transfiguration, when "Moses and Elias appeared, talking" 
(evidence enough of immortality) , and they had together fallen 
upon their faces with fear ; but when, in later days, he " was in 
the Spirit," listening to the trumpet tones of a mighty voice, 
saying, "I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last; I am 
alive for evermore ; " " What thou seest write in a book," then 
he uttered joyful words and said eloquent things of what were, 
after all, " unutterable sights," and sounds that were never to 
be communicated to other mortal ears than his. 

A vision of the New Jerusalem, with its inconceivable glory 
and endless cycles of complete bliss, beamed upon him, — a 
living, a glorious reality. He saw the inexpressible brightness 
that came from the great white throne, the angel throng, the 
redeemed saints that no man could number, the crystal sea, 
the streets of gold, and gates of pearl ; and his seraphic spirit 
was kindled into ecstasy as there issued from the untold splen- 
dors of the scene the ravishing sounds of "harpers," whose 
skilful touch produced songs of thrilling harmony in honor 
of Him who sat upon the throne, and through whom the mul- 
titude had been gathered there. Loud " Alleluias " continually 
ascended from the countless hosts, and "forever and ever "was 
the chorus of the song. The united company cast their crowns 
at the feet of Him who had redeemed them, and shouted still 



HEAVEN INDES CBIBABLE. 



173 



another anthem because of the "forever" and the constant 
accession to the joy of their raptured spirits. Whatever it 
was in which the white-robed assembly engaged, there ever re- 
mained the blessed consciousness of no diminution of pleasure, 
but rather a constant accession, throughout a period of inter- 
minable length. 

When the " ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands 
of thousands " joined in the song of praise to "the Lamb that 
was slain," heaven resounded with the echo — "forever and 
ever ; " and it seems not strange that the beloved disciple, 
under the influence of the beatific vision, and of heavenly har- 
monies, should rejoice to hear the assurance, "Behold, I come 
quickly." " Come up hither, and I will show thee things which 
must be hereafter," had been the confiding declaration of the 
Most High unto him. Obedience to his Lord secured a more 
delectable position than had ever yet been enjoyed by mortal ; 
but the time had not yet come for his full release, and for the 
rich possession of what he saw. He must tell others of the 
land beyond, that pilgrims in all time might be animated by 
the blissful prospect. But what could shadow the celestial 
glory? 

The choicest, the rarest, and most beautiful things of earth, 
the richest and loveliest forms of nature and art, were exhausted 
in the attempt to portray somewhat of the indescribable bless- 
edness, and bring it within the appreciation of the human soul, 
that is always and ever longing for future good ; but language 
was all too poor for the reality, for " eye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things 
which God hath prepared for them that love him." 

Have we not here proofs of immortality? Is it not placed 
beyond a doubt by " the sure word of prophecy " ? To doubt 
it must be to reject the whole inspired word, and become lost 
in the mazes of perplexity — in darkness whence no light can 
come. One may feel dissatisfied with the teachings of Nature, 
and count the evidence of his senses as an uncertain thing, 



174 



EXPERIENCE OF DODDRIDGE. 



since they may deceive ; but we all acknowledge, if there be 
any certainty anywhere, it is in the nature and attributes of the 
Infinite, and whatever they are pledged to sustain. Then, 
when his word says, " It is appointed unto men once to die, 
but after this the judgment," and forewarns of the time when the 
angel reapers shall gather the wheat, and cast out the tares, 
what are we to suppose, but that men have living souls that 
will act and be acted upon in another sphere, — and that sphere 
independent of time, earth, or sense? But we are not to do 
with supposition now. On the pages of the inspired volume 
immortality is traced by more than angel's pen ; it is there in 
characters of living light ; it is there as the burning words of 
more than seraph's tongue ; there is " everlasting life," Chris- 
tians are God-constituted heirs to a blessed inheritance in the 
immortal land ; and some of these heirs, those who have re- 
garded most faithfully the will and testament of their Bene- 
factor, have had blessed communications — have been taken 
aside, as it were, and shown the magnificence of the estate that 
was eventually to come to them. 

If Doddridge had doubted immortality, he would no longer 
have done so after that memorable night, when the gates of 
the upper temple were thrown open, and he saw what had 
been and what was yet to be in his own history. 

If William Tennent had ever wavered, he must have ceased 
from the time he experienced the three days that seemed as one 
hour, in which he had remarkable views of another life, revel- 
ling, as it seemed, in the very bliss of heaven. 

Yet these saw nothing more than what revelation had assured 
them of ; they dreamed of no more than what had been told 
them here. Their impressions might have been, and probably 
were, more vivid ; but it was not the awakening of immortal 
hopes, only their confirmation. Then, though all the teach- 
ings of reason be inadequate, there is one true, reliable source 
of evidence to which we may turn, with the firm and unalterable 
assurance that whatever is gained from it is as the unchangeable 



BEVEL ATI ON UNERRING. 



175 



character of Jehovah. Reason may err, but revlation cannot. 
The former partially slips the bolt that hides the treasure — the 
latter throws wide open the door, and bids man go in to make 
himself rich forever. One softly whispers that the thinking 
principle in man may he eternal, as the years of God ; the 
other loudly proclaims that it must live forever. 

Ah, futurity! it is established, it is grounded on an immo- 
vable rock, having an unfailing lighthouse, for the safety of 
the poor mariners who are tossed on the waves about it. 

"It is indeed a wide ocean," said one, "full of waves and 
dangers, storms and tempests ; and, like the Atlantic before 
the adventurous Genoese first crossed it, no one comes back 
to tell us what is beyond. But as, to the eye of Columbus, 
enlightened by true genius, it was self-evident that, to har- 
monize with the known world in which he dwelt, there must be 
another continent beyond the wide western sea, so to the eye of 
the religious man, enlightened by revelation, it is self-evident 
that beyond the ocean of time there must be another world to 
equalize all that is unequal in this." 

To the Christian mariner, " waves and dangers " are only 
incident to the voyage thither. When he shall have reached 
the heavenly shores, and gone up to the goodly land, there will 
be no more " storms and tempests ; " he will dwell " high on 
the hills of immortality " forever, and " rejoice with joy un- 
speakable and full of glory." 

Did the sacred records only give us the bare declaration that 
we are immortal, it would be enough for our perfect acceptance 
of the belief, and to insure a course of action in accordance 
with it ; but when it goes so far, and tells us so minutely of 
everything that shall characterize immortality, it seems an im- 
possibility to deny it. We cannot deny it. 

Revelation is the central sun — reason the lesser light; 
but both, with united voice, proclaim the truth. Everything 
joins in the solemn, universal song. 



SEASON AND REVELATION CONCUB. 

" Tis in the gentle moonlight; 
'Tis floating 'midst Day's setting glories ; Night, 
Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step, 
Comes to our bed, and breathes it in our ears ; 
Night, and the dawn, bright day, and thoughtful eve, 
All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse, 
As one vast, mystic instrument, are touched 
By an unseen, living hand, and conscious chords 
Quiver with joy in this great jubilee. 
The dying hear it ; and, as sounds of earth 
Grow dull and distant, wake their passing souls 
To mingle in this heavenly harmony. " 



A GLIMPSE OF IMMORTALITY. 



Ill 



CHAPTER XI. 

WISDOM CEDES, A WOEK TO BE DONE. 

Time with Reference to Eternity. — Strange Indifference of the Worldling. 
— Direction of human Effort. — Cardinal Wolsexj. — The Excursion. — 
Blessedness of immortal Life. — The heathen Philosopher. 

"Is there, as reason, conscience, Scripture, say, 
Cause to provide for a great future day, 
When, earth's assigned duration at an end, 
Man shall be summoned and the dead attend? 
The trumpet — will it sound, the curtain rise, 
And show the august tribunal of the skies, 
Where no prevarication shall avail, 
Where eloquence and artifice shall fail, 
The pride of arrogant distinctions fall, 
And conscience and our conduct judge us all ? " — Cowper. 

" Like a little child that has sprung on a little way before its 
playmates," says one, " and caught a glimpse through an open 
portal of some varied Eden within, all gay with flowers, and 
musical with birds, and haunted by divine shapes which beckon 
forward, and, after one rapturous survey, runs back and 
catches its companions by the hand, and hurries them forward 
to share the new-found pleasure, the yet unexplored region of 
delight, — even so it is with me : I am on the outside, not the 
inside, of the door I open." 

We are yet mortal ; we have caught a glimpse of immortality, 
and through faith, its twin sister, we have gained entrance ta 
fairer fields than we had dreamed of while following the guid- 
ance of reason ; we have heard whispers from the eternal side, 
and our spirit faculties have arisen to claim affinity with the 
unseen. Here, " earth and heaven, time and eternity, the finite 
12 



178 



TIME AS BELATED TO ETEBNITY. 



and the infinite," have met to exchange sympathies ; and ab- 
sorbed in the contemplation of the boundless prospect, rejoicing 
in the bright hopes to which it gives birth, we have said to our- 
selves, "For what is earth so valuable as for a memento of 
something better ? What use shall strangers and pilgrims make 
of it, save as a volume from which to get the alphabet of celes- 
tial science, save as a rude wharf from which they embark, a 
tottering bridge over which they pass to the better land?" 
Ours is a sin-blighted world, and though it retains much that 
is attractive, much to make us cling to it, yet the human 
heart is, as it were, a living receptacle, where germinate a thou- 
sand griefs that contrast strangely with the bursting buds that 
promised so much of beauty and joy. A glimpse of the fairer 
fields that lie beyond, in beautiful perspective, makes the present 
grow dim, so that the lisping tongue of childhood has joined 
with the tired pilgrim of many years in saying, " I am weary of 
life, and I would go to my rest." When once firmly held by 
the hand of Faith, she begets not only a hope, but a desire 
to reach the welcome harbor, to drop the anchor, and dwell 
securely, far from torturing fears and distressing anxieties, 
those things which oppress the voyagers of Time so much in all 
their course. 

Now, if it be once and forever established that there is an 
everlasting existence beyond the grave, that this life is but the 
beginning of a life that is to continue through a period of such 
duration that the most capacious powers fail in the attempt to 
grasp an idea of it, and that this is but a disciplinary state, and 
on the improvement of the discipline depends the character of 
this mysterious Eternity, — if we believe this, how much it be- 
come th us to take heed to the matter of preparation ! How ill 
to pause and while away the time on trifles ! There is a sense 
in which it may be written of Time, "How momentous ! " but 
only as it is associated with that other, and still more fearfully 
momentous thing — Eternity. 

To live forever we have seen to be a natural desire of the 



INDIFFERENCE OF THE WORLDLING. 179 



human soul, and to live happily is the idea linked with that of 
living at all. This hope animates almost all the inhabitants of 
earth ; especially does it control those who feel that they have a 
passport which will admit them safely into the celestial regions, 
of which they have heard until their hearts burn within them, 
until they are conscious of an inexpressible desire to depart, that 
they may realize the fulfilment of so glorious a dream ; not 
like the heathen philosopher of the past, who plunged into 
the Unknown with an uncertain hope, but as one who has 
heard the voice of Revelation assuring him of a blissful cer- 
tainty, a happy and blessed immortality. But who are they 
that live with an abiding impression that these things are 
really so — that this life is but a hand's breadth and the life 
to come immeasurable ? As we look out upon the pomp and 
pageantry of human life, and witness the distinctions of society, 
the passion for honor and preferment, the warrings and strifes 
of ambition for fame and high position, the trampling of right 
under the crushing pressure of might, the attempt to pile treas- 
ures of gold exceeding high, the means used to gain a little 
spot of earth, — as we see these things, a natural conclusion 
would be, that time offers the greatest inducement to constant 
and continued exertion, that the energies of soul and body 
may be more profitably expended upon this sublunary scene, 
this lower world, where there is so much to strive for, so 
much to obtain. But what says Revelation, — "the sure word 
of prophecy," — that which opens the unseen , and discovers 
the really true and good ? Go on in the enjoyment of every 
possible acquisition that earth can afford, and proudly exult 
in the brilliancy of success ; but there is " a hand writing " that 
appears amid the glitter and excitement of it all, which may 
be interpreted thus : " Thy days are numbered and finished ; 
thou must leave the world ; and be sure thou canst carry nothing 
that thou hast with thee : then whose shall those things be which 
thou hast treasured?" With the vast majority of those who 
throng the great thoroughfare of life, present enjoyment seems 



180 



THE LOVE OF PLEASURE. 



the ultimate end of all their efforts. Even those who profess 
belief in immortal life and its rewards seem strangely indiffer- 
ent to those things which are but just before them, those things 
which they are ready to acknowledge infinitely transcend all that 
is to be found in this transitory scene. 

" To cultivate the intellectual faculties, to aspire after moral 
excellence, to devote the active powers to the glory of the 
Creator and the benefit of mankind, to live as strangers and 
pilgrims upon earth, to consider the glories of this world as a 
transient scene that will soon pass away, and to keep the eye 
constantly fixed on the realities of an immortal life, are character- 
istics of only a few ; " and yet every day that the Bible is opened 
one sees that attention to these things is pronounced the highest 
wisdom, and that those who come the nearest to the divine 
standard are those who make the temporal subservient to the 
spiritual. Under the light of revelation it has become the 
prominent, settled belief of all classes, that this life is, as it 
were, but an interlude, an interval to gain power for more 
extended action ; but theory and practice seldom come to- 
gether, and consequently we see men crowding on, continually 
saying,—- 

"Life is but a winter's day, 
A journey to the tomb," — 

and continually acting as if it were an endless day, that called 
for great stores to meet its prolonged necessities. 

The lover of pleasure, at the same time that he will acknowl- 
edge himself standing on the verge of the eternal world, will go 
on in the unrestrained indulgence of his sensual appetites and 
desires, and allow himself to be engrossed with the frivolities of 
time and sense, although he knows that the knell may at any 
time sound that will speak his departure from probationary 
scenes, and his entrance upon those that are retributive. He 
may even see Death numbering his daily victims about him, 
may see his relatives drop one after another into the grave ; 
and beyond the sorrow occasioned by his own personal loss, the 



THE MAMMON WORSHIPPER. 



181 



grief experienced by his desolated spirit for want of smiles and 
words that had hitherto been a comfort and a joy, he fails to 
lay these things to heart, to let them confirm and bring nearer 
the realities of the future, to incorporate them into present 
practical life, and thus insure the requisite preparation for a 
blessed life beyond this world. 

Those whose hearts are set upon the acquisition of wealth 
have their minds continually racked by new schemes, and their 
bodies wearied with the earnestness of the effort required for 
the realization of their golden dreams. No sacrifice is thought 
too much ; personal ease is nothing ; they will forego comfort 
and convenience, refuse the claims of friendship, and even 
neglect those that are nearer and more weighty, if they inter- 
fere with the cherished plans of accumulation ; and this while 
the declaration of solemn import is sounding in their ears, 
" What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and 
lose his own soul ? " and while they profess to believe that the 
appeal comes with all the force of divine authority, and there- 
fore unquestionably true in its fearful suggestions. Notwith- 
standing such a profession, they rush on in the eager pursuit, 
full of anticipation and hope ; and with every shining dollar 
that drops into the coffer, a new impulse is given to proud am- 
bition, and thought comes as a guest to intimate that the mon- 
ument to memory is becoming taller and richer, and perchance 
among men it will be considered that another " cubit is added 
to the stature" — that the step higher merits a better and 
loftier seat. Having reached the high plane where Benevo- 
lence delights to walk, instead of hearkening to her plead- 
ing tones, they spurn the angel visitant, and shut their eyes 
upon the dismal prospects toward which she turns with 
mild and pitying look. To build and increase is the motto 
of this class, despite what they know of storms, winds, and 
tempests, that are wont to sweep away the palaces and 
treasures that are resting upon sandy foundations, leaving 
no trace of their existence. Everything bends to the selfish 



182 



ASPIRANT FOB FAME. 



desire of acquiring large and splendid possessions in time, 
although there is a familiar writing that tells of " mansions " 
and a goodly inheritance that may be had, and forever enjoyed, 
without fear of spurious title, or anxiety lest unjust procedure 
wrest it away. 

Were these actuated by a firm and practical belief in im- 
mortality, would not the consideration of "Canaan's goodly 
land," with its transcendently glorious possessions, be infinitely 
more animating than the unreliable things of earth? It is 
because mankind are so much wanting in practical faith that 
there is so much difference between " here and there ; " that they 
toil on through threescore years, intent upon the present until 
the last moment of earthly existence, even though revelation 
has so blessedly assured it is better there than here. 

Behold the men who love popular applause, who trample 
upon every principle of truth and justice, who are careless of 
integrity, and strangers to charity, if by it they may gain the 
position which will insure for them the adulation of the crowd 
— if they may reach a point from whence they may look 
down to catch the upturned — perhaps admiring — gaze of the 
envious multitude. What do such think of "the honor that 
cometh from God only " ? of the " crowns " that shall be given 
to the wise and good, when the new era shall dawn, when the 
new drama shall appear, and they shall be either willing or 
unwilling actors ? What do those think, of whom the midnight 
hours testify a vast expenditure of God-given energy, merely 
that the annals of Fame may beam brighter to them, by the 
record they may bear of themselves ? Of what account is it 
to have the name engraved a little higher than some other 
name ? The tablet which bears the names of all earth's honored 
ones is perishable, and it is not long ere they grow so dim as 
scarcely to be traced. Better to have that " new name " written, 
which shall stand forever. It is beyond the reach of the finger 
of time, on imperishable parchment, written in the fadeless 
colors prepared by a divine hand. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 



183 



A well-known cardinal once sought distinction at the court 
of his king. He found it ; but the sad words that appear at 
the close of his eventful history are these : " Had I been as 
diligent to serve my God as I have been to please my king, he 
would not have forsaken me now in my old age." And so it 
might be written of many : had they been half as earnest and 
thoughtful in their preparation for the immortal as for the per- 
ishable, they might have been exulting in the reward of their 
endeavors. When a friend accosted the prince of the Latin 
poets with the question why he studied so much accuracy in 
the plan of his poem, the propriety of his characters, and the 
purity of his diction, he replied, "I am writing for eternity." 
Much more, then, should we be prompted to the utmost vigi- 
lance and circumspection as we reflect upon that which is still 
more true, " We are living for eternity." We are sowing here, 
and the harvest will not be ripe until the sun of the last clay has 
shone upon it. Then the trumpet will sound, the reapers will 
be called, and each man's work will appear, and each man's 
reward will be assigned. How important that there be some- 
thing to show a fidelity in the work and a claim to the reward ! 

When a future, endless life remained a matter of supposition, 
the wisest of earth's philosophers were deeply interested in the 
probability of such a result ; and shall the interest be less with 
those who live now, and " know whereof they affirm " ? When 
one is thoroughly enlisted in any subject, it is evident in all 
his thoughts, affections, and pursuits ; so when one is duly 
impressed with this great doctrine of immortality, it will exert 
an influence upon the minutest action of his life. 

A man of business planned an excursion to a distant shore. 
Of the resources, the scenery, the manners and customs of 
the people of the country he knew no more than what other 
travellers had told him ; but from the time he came to the con- 
clusion to be himself a witness to these things, — from the 
time they became associated with his own interest and happi- 
ness, — the thoughts and the efforts of every moment were 



184 



THE EXCURSION. 



directed to this one end. Maps, charts, guides, histories, 
geographies, were all consulted for peculiarities of locality, 
custom, or whatever might in any way tend to his comfort or 
advantage, or increase his store of knowledge and informa- 
tion. Those whom he met could not fail to know the thing in 
which he was engaged, for his interest was manifest in all his 
conversation as well as his action. 

Provision was made for the enhancement of the profit and 
pleasure of the stay, and oceans and vessels, with other things 
concerning his progress, were regarded with unwonted interest. 
How carefully he avoided danger and counted upon his arrival 
in a foreign land ! His heart was upon the voyage, and his 
thoughts and conduct showed it. But why this solicitous re- 
gard about things here ? It contrasts strangely with that man- 
ifested by the voyagers that are "homeward bound" to an 
eternal shore — to a country possessing indescribable love- 
liness, where variety and beauty blend in untold richness, 
and whose resources are boundless and free to the travel- 
lers who reach it. Intelligence has reached us of the won- 
derful scenery there, of unsurpassed architecture, beautiful 
mansions, costly streets, delightful fields watered by crystal 
streams ; of a supremely happy people, blessed society, and 
every imaginable good to promote pure and perfect felicity ; and 
yet, apparently, this prospect excites less of interest than the 
brief, imperfect scenes which allure the traveller on the shores 
of time. We hear of aromatic breezes that come from islands 
of the sea, of flowers that bloom in rich luxuriance in tropical 
climates, of juicy fruits in delicious clusters, of gorgeous sun- 
sets in Italia's land, of charming valleys beneath Oriental 
skies, of gulfs opulent with pearls, of gold on far-off shores, 
and all the enthusiasm of our nature is kindled ; we are 
ready to brave every danger and cross every sea to have 
our senses regaled and our treasures enlarged. For this 
we will turn away from the one, true, happy land, with its 
breezes of eternal freshness ; its flowers of fadeless hues ; its 



RELATIVE VALUE OF EARTH AND HEAVEN. 185 



fruit from trees whose very " leaves are for the healing of the 
nations ; " its clear, transparent, grateful light, before which 
the sun grows dim and vanishes, and Luna's rays are forever 
obscured. In our weary and wasting efforts to see a little of 
earth, we forget the land of perpetual spring, of immortal 
youth and vigor, and of such unparalleled wealth and splendor, 
that its very gates are pearl, its streets gold, and its inhabit- 
ants constantly arrayed in the richest of robes, wearing crowns 
for the very abundance of treasures. 

All this was promised in the day that Christ appeared to 
bring " immortality to light ; " but for some reason, " golden 
dreams of heavenly plains " have less influence than like visions 
of plains below, or at least are slower to wake corresponding 
action. 

It is only when practical faith takes hold of the immortal, 
and it is introduced to the soul as a living reality, that the 
appropriate line is drawn, and both, the mortal and the im- 
mortal, assume their relative importance ; the one great in its 
magnitude, the other exceeding small. It is under the influence 
of this active belief that one is led to form a true and just esti- 
mate of the value of all terrestrial things ; for, as we see and 
feel the superiority of things only by contrast, so it is only 
when the light of eternity beams in upon the soul, and it sees 
the utter insignificance of the earthly as compared with the 
heavenly, that the full force of the command is felt to lay up 
treasures for the life to come. To the soul conscious of a 
speedy departure from time what are secular cares and plans ? 
what earthly fame or renown ? what the fascinations or allure- 
ments of a pleasure-promising world? They have no place, 
no power. The heart is attracted to other scenes, and en- 
grossed with other objects ; it grasps the infinite, and loses 
the finite. 

The time of departure must come to all. We are embarked 
on the voyage, and the "boatman's oar" is bearing us on to 
the farther shore. We may almost have reached Jordan's 



186 THE HEATHEN PHILOSOPHER. 



current, the last stream to be passed ; and if under the right 
Captain, ere we are over, we may hear the voices of the shining 
ones, singing of redemption, forever and ever. If the ocean 
pilot find a necessity for constant watch, lest the shoals and 
breakers, rocks and quicksands, may harm or destroy his 
vessel, and endanger his material life, how much greater the 
necessity for a continual lookout for those things that threaten 
irremediable harm to the immaterial thing that every one bears 
with him on his voyage to eternity ! Oftentimes, in the course 
thitherward, the tempests rage and the billows roar ; but when 
Faith sits at the helm, fear is quieted and anxiety quelled 
by its encouraging tones, its assurances of ultimate peace and 
safety. The better country is descried in the distance, and all 
sublunary things fade away before the coming glory. 

The imagination of a heathen philosopher pierced the heav- 
ens, to expatiate in their boundless regions ; to behold the 
magnitude and dwell upon the beauty of the mysterious and 
mighty orbs, rolling through their measureless cycles ; and, 
dazzled by the scene, as well as awed by the grandeur, he 
glanced to his native earth, saying, " Is it to this little spot that 
the great designs and vast desires of men are confined? Is it 
for this there is such disturbance of nations, so much carnage, 
and so many ruinous wars ? O folly of deceived men ! to 
imagine great kingdoms in the compass of an atom ; to raise 
armies, to divide a point of earth with their swords ! It is just 
as if the ants should divide their molehills into provinces, and 
conceive a field to be several kingdoms, and fiercely contend 
to enlarge their borders, and celebrate a triumph in gaining a 
foot of earth, as a new province to their empire." 

What significance in the words here and there, now and 
then! how poor is the present compared with the future ! how 
unworthy the strifes and toils Ave so often see, the anxieties 
we so often feel ! Upon everything here, upon these mortal 
shores, is written Fading and transitory. That which we seek 
either eludes our grasp altogether, or sadly disappoints us in 



BLESSEDNESS OF IMMORTAL LIFE. 187 



the possession, so that we are ready to cry, "Is there no world 
where the worm never gnaws at the root of the rose ? where 
the lacerating thorn is not concealed in everything that is fair ? " 

Such a place is the immortal land, according to Revelation, 
and a cordial recognition of such a fact does much toward 
reconciling the mind to the disappointments, the sorrows, and 
privations incident to mortality. Now uncertainty may be 
stamped upon all that surrounds my pathway ; then it will be 
exchanged for the everlasting. Now that in which my soul 
delights may take wings and fly away, leaving me sad in my 
desolation ; but then the heart will never be troubled by appre- 
hensions of being forsaken, for fear is not in the vocabulary 
that will be the standard there. Now the Angel of Death may 
interrupt the costliest schemes, and put an end to the most pros- 
perous career ; but then there shall be nothing to disturb the 
peaceful flow of prosperity forever. It is the faithful who are 
versed in the signification of these things — who find hidden 
lore in these little words, that is as manna to their hungry 
souls. 

Since the occasion that called forth the song, " Glory to God 
in the highest," — since Bethlehem's plains resounded with the 
heavenly chorus, "On earth peace, good will toward men," — 
there has been a new and blessed administration. A sovereign 
remedy was then introduced in " Gilead's balm " for all the woes 
and wounds of mankind. Sin-stricken souls, and bleeding, 
burdened hearts may no longer mourn over their hopeless and 
incurable griefs ; the captive and oppressed may no longer pine 
under the weight of their chains ; for the time of deliverance 
has come, and the Monarch of Israel is waiting to unloose. 

If we truly and firmly believe that there is a future eternity, 
— that there is a " Divinity that shapes our ends " here with 
reference to that future, — then what shall equal our desire to 
yield ourselves up to the divine moulding, or measure the soli- 
citude we feel to become fitted for the exercise and relish of the 
employments and enjoyments of the world to which we most 



188 



THE GLORIOUS ROPE. 



surely tend? If we recognize the idea of an immortal life, 
how natural to desire clear and comprehensive views concern- 
ing it ; to know as much as possible of the nature and dura- 
tion of its pleasures, the character and extent of its occupations ; 
in short, to know everything that can be known respecting it ! 

" We will not be satisfied with vague and confused conceptions 
of celestial bliss, but will endeavor to form as precise and definite 
ideas on the subject as the circumstances of our sublunary 
station will permit." Thus soliloquized one who has now gone 
to experience the full fruition of that which seemed so fair, 
and yet so imperfect while on earth, because so many things 
obstruct mortal vision. 

Socrates, and others of antiquity, when they came to the 
final conflict, the last hour, strongly hoped they should know of 
victory and possession in another land ; and this hope had its 
influence. But we, who live under the Christian dispensation, 
with the privilege of hopes anchored " within the veil," may 
sing, with triumph, the songs of immortality, and shout with 
exultation as the banner is lifted before the conquering Lord, 
bearing the glorious inscription, "Life and immortality are 
brought to light." They who join the triumphal host, who 
march in due procession to the end, shall find the gates that 
open to receive them " adorned with wondrous grace," and an 
arch encircling all, upon which may be seen, in ever-enduring 
characters, "Him that overcometh shall go no more out," and 
" The kingdom and dominion shall be given to the saints of the 
Most High." 



SENTENCE IN EDEN. 



189 



CHAPTEE XII. 

DEATH THE PORTAL TO THE UNSEEN. 

Sentence in Eden. — Nature of the Change. Valley and Stream unknown. 
— Heathen Notions of Death. — Sounds from Hindoo Shores. — Scep- 
tical Ideas. — Effect of Christ's Mission. — Luther and Melancthon. — 
Christian Views. — No Death in Heaven. 

" Boast not thy victory, Death ! 
It is but as the cloud 's o'er the sunbeam's power ; 
It is but as the winter 's o'er leaf and flower, 
That slumber the snow beneath. 

64 It is but as a tyrant's reign 
O'er the voice and the lip which he bids be still ; 
But the fiery thought and the lofty will 

Are not for him to chain ! " — 3frs. Hemans. 

From the time the guilty pair heard the painful and irrevo- 
cable sentence among the groves of Paradise, " Dust thou art, 
and unto dust shalt thou return," mystery and anxiety have 
been associated to invest the last hour of mortal being with 
solemnity and terror. Nothing more appalls men than the 
thought of this change, or so effectually frights them, as the 
sight of the dread messenger that is about to put an end to pro- 
bation, and lead on into other, strange, and unknown scenes. 
They would fain prolong acquaintance with " things that are 
seen," and they desire to be ministered unto yet longer by the 
material senses, although these are often the occasion of acute 
and prolonged suffering, sending dismay and gloom over a 
large period of earthly existence. It matters not how sombre 
the cloud that encircles us ; we prefer to become enveloped in 
darker folds than we have yet seen, rathar than to experience 



190 



SENTENCE IN EDEN. 



the Cimmerian gloom that preludes we know not what. When 
the words echoed through the bowers of Eden, " Thou shalt 
surely die," they sent a pang through the souls of the favored 
two who dwelt there, and the question which, doubtless, agi- 
tated their minds at the annunciation has stirred all their pos- 
terity to the same eager inquiry, What is death ? They had 
been accustomed to ease, or perfect and delightful rest ; to the 
fullest and freest enjoyment in everything about them ; to hap- 
piest intercourse with each other ; to the most blissful content 
— the harmony of complete existence — without idea or thought 
of cessation. No precedent existed to remind them of decay, 
nothing to bring satiety ; and as the fatal and eventful hour 
approached that made it necessary to pronounce the fearful 
sentence, what terrible significance was in it ! A blight came 
upon all things ; the gates were opened, and the joyful and 
fearless went forth to find fear, trouble, and wasting labor ; to 
find thorns thickly studding the flowers that had hitherto been 
thornless ; to find disappointments associated with pleasures 
that had before been without a sting ; to find things alluring 
only to deceive, and beauty everywhere sadly marred and 
defaced. No wonder if the mournful change were thought 
death ; if they dreamed they had issued into a dying world, 
although ignorant of the extent of that " death and all our 
woe," which had in reality started on its ceaseless round of 
devastation and grief since the fatal moment of yielding to the 
tempter. But the blight that fell upon the natural world 
was not like that which came with scathful power upon the 
moral, and the hearts of Eden's exiles were less concerned for 
fading nature than the sin-ruined waste within. A compara- 
tively barren desert was before them, in which to wander the 
rest of their doubtful pilgrimage ; but this thought was not so 
painful, or the sight so cheerless, as the consideration — the 
glimpse of that other realm over which conscience presided so 
jealously. As they found themselves arraigned at this tribunal 
to answer to the charges of which they were verily guilty, 



NO DEATH IF NO SIN. 



191 



Death, like an " armed foe," stood at their sides to threaten , 
and distress them. There was no appeal. The fiat had gone 
forth, and the Judge was inexorable. The trembling culprits 
must bow at the stroke, to ask on until the time came to know 
by personal experience, "And what may death be?" 

Promises and revelations were indeed given to quell the 
anguish and mitigate the sorrows of the unhappy pair ; and 
far down the vista of time they discovered the march of a tri- 
umphant conqueror who should vanquish the foe, yet in the 
matter of deliverance there was no reprieve. Power had been 
given the Destroying Angel to send forth his arrows and his 
darts over all the plains of life, and wherever human hearts 
were found beating, there should he have right to do his deso- 
lating work. Before him they must inevitably bow. What- 
ever might be the circumstances in which they were placed, 
however strong the inducements for lengthened days, however 
urgent the claims of affection, the pleadings of necessity, the 
entreaties and promises of ambition and hope, it would avail 
nothing. If they be his chosen victims, willing or unwilling, 
they must fall to rise no more in the day of visitation. Whether 
death would have entered our world if things had remained 
according to original purity and perfectness, we cannot know. 
It seems unlikely to suppose that material frames would have 
been left to immortality upon earth ; but the " how " of these 
things is among the unknown and the unwritten — the un- 
revealed ; and therefore we may not attempt to pry into 
"the folded leaves," or, attempting, forever fail in our ob- 
ject. This much we do know, that Death is abroad. He is 
constantly crossing our paths, and as often intimating that a 
conflict is nearing between himself and us ; and this much 
is evident also, that he takes to himself a frightful form, 
and is clothed with terror, because of man's fatal disobe- 
dience to God. 

Had it been the portion, or were it to have been, under the 
clear-sightedness and purity of the first creation, to meet a 



192 



WHAT IS DEATH? 



change, to feel the influence of decay, it would, in all proba- 
bility, have been the gradual, painless wearing away of nature ; 
the laying aside of a garment no longer of use; the lying 
down to peaceful sleep at the close of a happy day. The 
sun would not sink more calmly beneath the western horizon, 
amid fleecy clouds of gold and amber, on a tranquil day 
of summer, than the righteous spirit would sink into everlast- 
ing bliss after having pursued its luminous way to the end of 
its course on earth. But, alas ! it is not so. We turn from the 
contemplation of what might have been to what is ; to ask 
again, What is death? and to meet the reply, It is that 
which " mocks at wisdom, strength, and beauty ; disarranges 
our plans, robs us of our treasures, desolates our bosoms, 
breaks our heart-strings, and blasts our hopes." It is that 
which "extinguishes the glow of kindness, abolishes the most 
tender relations of man, severs him from all that he knows 
and loves, subjects him to an ordeal which thousands of mil- 
lions have passed, but none can explain ; and which will be as 
new to the last who gives up the ghost as it was to Abel " 
when he breathed out his life in presence of an envious brother, 
and passed away. When Adam and Eve looked upon the life- 
less body of their dear child, — more dear from the narrow 
circle of earthly relatives, — and mourned as those bereft of a 
valued source of comfort, they began to experience what death 
brings — to realize the bitterness flowing from it ; but this did 
not avail to acquaint them with the untried state upon which 
their beloved had opened his eyes, or to take from them en- 
tirely that shrinking to which they had been subject since the 
forbidden tree was visited and profanely handled. 

That was a mournful paragraph in their history. Death 
became the penalty, and was entailed on all mankind ; so that 
the last wail consequent upon the act shall not die out until 
regeneration shall have accomplished its whole work, — until 
the " kingdoms of this world shall have become the kingdoms 
of our Lord and his Christ," and " the new heavens " and a 



VALLEY AND STREAM UNKNOWN. 



193 



holy people reign until " corruption shall have put on incorrup- 
t-ion, and mortality shall be swallowed up of life." What death 
really is, we cannot know until it takes us by the hand, — until 
we feel the icy touch that freezes the fountain of life, that con- 
ceals the warm current which gives vigor and animation to the 
animal frame, and transforms the active body to a clay-cold , 
inanimate mass, helpless, unconscious — dead! 

We must, ourselves, go down through the dark valley, to 
know what is there ; we must cross the narrow stream ourselves, 
if we would know the characteristics of the valley and the 
stream ; for none ever threaded that vale and forded those 
waters, and came back to tell of the darkness and the coldness, 
or to say these are but appearances. Some have long stood 
on the borders of the river, and told us what they saw and how 
they felt, but we know not their actual experience while really 
contending with waves as they closed around them in mid- 
Jordan. 

The same Word that bears record of immortality tells us of 
death ; and in proportion to the knowledge and influence of this 
Word is the proper view of it prevalent. That which concerns 
man so truly and certainly, will, of course, awaken speculation 
and inquiry. The patriarchs and prophets "received the 
promise afar off," and believed, so that when they had finished 
their course, and the time came for them to be "gathered to 
their fathers," they laid down as tired pilgrims to a refreshing 
sleep, expecting to awake to scenes of eternal gladness and 
interest in another state ; but nations that have remained igno- 
rant of divinely-communicated teachings have had strange spec- 
ulations and absurd theories respecting the dread visitant, whose 
unrelenting nature cannot be so propitiated as to grant exemp- 
tion from his embrace. Despite offerings and sacrifices he will 
invade the most charmed circle, and turn their merriest songs 
into loudest lamentations, their strongest anticipations into 
deepest regrets, and make their boasted security but as a trem- 
bling foundation. Some tribes of men have thought that the 
13 



194 



EEATEEN VIEWS OF DEATH. 



"demon," as they call it, might be frighted away, and various 
are the incantations to which they resort to influence Death to 
pass by ; but as he proves uninfluenced by their enchantments, 
and lays low the warrior and the chief, they renew and redouble 
their efforts to exorcise the fiend, and thus secure the safety of 
the living. 

The philosophy of all those without the gospel affords, indeed, 
but a comfortless prospect. One of these, interrogated with the 
question, What is death? replied, "It is an eternal sleep; the 
dread of the rich, the desire of the poor, the inevitable event, 
the robber of man, the flight of life, and the dissolution of all 
things. " Such is the dismal prospect of heathen religion, though 
it is not to be denied that some of it is true in the Christian 
sense, for who has not felt most painfully that death is the 
" robber of man ; " that it takes the most cherished possessions 
and carefully-tended treasures ; that it is the " flight of life," and 
" the inevitable event " ? But these considerations are one thing to 
the gospel believer, and quite another thing to him who, with the 
sceptic, declares there is no awakening from the sleep which death 
occasions. But there is no escape. Death finds the lone wan- 
derer in the most retired haunt, the isolated hermit in his safely- 
thought retreat, as well as those who dwell in crowds and go in 
bands. He cuts down the former, and we are amazed ; he 
singles out his victims from the latter, and we are forced to say, — 

" Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow, 
Which, while it executes, alarms." 

It is related of Solomon that he was attended in a walk by one 
of his pupils, when their path was intercepted by the " Angel of 
Death." Awed and terrified by the unwelcome intruder, the 
pupil requested of his teacher an instantaneous transmission to 
some distant mountain. " It is granted," said the teacher, and 
forthwith he found himself on lofty heights in the distance, but 
only to be met by the same foe, to whom he addressed the 
words, " Wherefore didst thou come ? I sought to flee from thy 
presence." This may be fable, but it is true that when we 



SOUNDS FROM TEE GANGES. 



195 



would fly from the destroyer, he may meet us in the flight, and 
we cannot avoid the meeting, though we may seek it studiously. 
* We die as fast as we live," says one ; " every moment sub- 
tracts from our duration on earth, as much as it adds to it," but 
with the Christian idea, - — the Christian hope, — it is only 

" Nightly pitching the tent 
A day's march nearer home," — 

it is only shortening the passage to a much wished-for country — 
only changing garments sooner, in preparation for appearance at 
the royal court, where a seat is waiting for its occupant. 

How different a thing is it with those who have not looked 
through the bright mirror of revelation ; who have not seen the 
light beaming from this source, and only perceive the shadowy 
hand of the grim monster stretched out to force them whither he 
would have them go ! 

What would be said of death were we to ask the throngs who 
have been down to the banks of the " sacred Ganges " with their 
gasping, dying ones — if we were to hear the faint testimony of 
those forsaken, and left to close their eyes unblessed by human 
love and friendship, with no music to cheer but the murmur of 
the stream, and no voice to whisper comfort in the last moment 
of expiring nature? From the living and the dying come 
no cheering sounds ; only the ceaseless tread of the mighty 
foe, causing these shores to be bleached with human bones, 
and the expiring groans of a pitiable crowd, who neither 
understood life nor death, but passed away to a returnless land, 
concerning which they were also equally ignorant. Supersti- 
tion and imagination, with their unreal, unsatisfying specula- 
tions, had indeed opened some sort of a door for them, but 
how wide or inviting may be inferred by the peculiarity of 
the views of this people, who thus express themselves: "Nor 
ought you to think it extraordinary that a person dies. It 
is more extraordinary that a person desires to live. If you 
confine a bird in a cage, though you cherish him with the 
greatest care, if the door be open he flies away. But 



196 



HINDOO DARKNESS. 



though there are nine openings in the body by which the soul 
may make its escape, and though the person be suffering the 
deepest distress, yet the soul is not willing to depart : this 
desire of life is more wonderful than death itself. When the 
soul has taken its flight then, why should you think it such an 
extraordinary thing ? You are suffering for the sins of many 
former births ; which sins, like a shadow, will pursue you, go 
where you will, and assume whatever shape you may, till they 
be expiated by suffering. If this were not so, why is it that a 
good man suffers, while a wicked man is raised to the pinnacle 
of prosperity? If men suffered only for the sins of this life, the 
good would have nothing but happiness, and the wicked nothing 
but sorrow." To those who originated this strange system the 
Christian idea of death was unknown. That which constituted 
its sting and made it terrible, although a reality of their sin- 
tainted natures, was yet unappreciated, and the victory which 
had been obtained over it was yet an untaught mystery. They 
knew of a " country from whose bourn no traveller returns." 
They saw their ranks thinned by the Destroyer, but of the 
animating hopes, and characteristics of the undiscovered country, 
they knew nothing certainly ; and it is not strange that when the 
elevating tidings of Christianity reached them, and they were 
told of a God who has death under his control, obedient to his 
mandate, and that it may be made, as it were, the portal to a 
blessed and immortal land, they sent a cry far over the wa- 
ters to their more favored brethren, saying, "Come over and 
tell us of these things, for we are dying for lack of knowledge." 
As the mild radiance of divine truth has been shed over the 
Hindoo plains, the low wails from the thicket and the jungle 
have died out ; the deluded worshippers at idolatrous shrines 
have grown less ; the wretched victims on impious altars have 
ceased to covet the fire and the wheel to expedite their transit 
from time, and death is coming to be considered in the Christian 
sense, not only as a "friend to release from pain," but as that 
which in God's own time will unite the soul to its true sovereign, 
and bring it into ; a worthy and glorious sphere. 



/ 



ANNIHILATION. 



197 



Another people pursuing their questionings as to " what feels 
the body when the soul expires," come, as the poet tells us, to 
this conclusion, that 

" Death, so called, is but old matter, dressed 
In some new figure and a varied vest. 
Thus all things are but altered, nothing dies, 
And here and there the unbodied spirit flies, 
By time, or force, or sickness dispossessed, 
And lodges where it lights, in man or beast." 

These prospects, though cheerless and revolting indeed, were 
yet more desirable to the darkened spirits of the ancients, with 
their natural and tenacious love of life, than the other and still 
1 more fearful doom of going to their last couch with never a hope 
of living or thinking again. Such approach the dark stream with 
shrinkings and shudderings that are appalling. As the ghastly 
monarch stamps the seal upon them which marks them for his 
victims, they are plunged at once into a whirl of madness and 
a rush of uncertainty that is sickening to contemplate and 
worse to experience. " Save me, O save me ! " said a once 
boasting atheist ; " save me from the dreadful doom that awaits 
me ; rescue me from the darkness that encircles me ; for death 
threatens to quench not only the gushing fountain from whence 
issue the streams that sustain the animal principle, but it seems 
to lay its relentless grasp upon my hidden life, to crush out 
even the very power of thought." 

What hopelessness and despair settle around such in the 
hour when they are compelled to go ! What gloomy fore- 
bodings haunt their souls, notwithstanding they have professed 
to believe that death is a leap into the chasm of forgetful- 
ness ! that the last struggle with the unwelcome visitor is the 
only one they would ever be capable of experiencing, since then 
came an end to all capacity of doing or suffering, — of any 
rational action or enjoyment whatever. 

" A fortune and a kingdom," said one, in the hour of his 
extremity, to his attendant, " if you will only prolong my life ! 



198 



SCEPTICAL VIEWS. 



for I fear to follow the windings of that path through which I 
may be led, if I am fated to the will of so stern a guide as 
Death. I see nothing ; I know nothing ; all is a blank : but I 
tremble at nothingness, and fear to what I may be introduced — 
if, perchance, I be introduced to anything at all." 

The present age is not without some such doubting, sceptical 
minds, who jeer and scoff while at a fancied distance from the 
enemy, although the clarion notes of the gospel are continually 
sounding about them, sending forth soul-penetrating anthems to 
wake the soul to glad experience and pleasing anticipations in 
everything pertaining to spirit life. Although the boundary 
line between this world and the next be well defined, and the 
surging waves of the cold river are beaten back by the resistless 
force of Him who made a channel in the great deep ; although 
the gospel affords a key to unlock a treasure-house for the soul, 
and provides for its ample furnishing in every emergency, they 
yet choose to turn away from the delightful prospect, and 
wrap themselves in the stifling folds of oblivion. They re- 
gard death, not as "progress to life," not merely as a pause 
or suspension, but as the universal leveller, who is engaged 
in the very strange work of annihilating both the material and 
the spiritual in God's world. With such a view, where is the 
Almighty Controller of events ? Where is He who holds the 
" keys of death," who " shuts and no man opens," and reverses 
with equal readiness? It hurls him from his lofty throne, and 
sends disorder and dismay through the natural, moral, and 
spiritual realm, leaving no place, no corner where the spirit 
may hie to repose itself. There is no comfort to such. 

A sect has sprung up in the nineteenth century who repu- 
diate the commonly received views of death, or at least the 
gospel view, and invest it with their own meaning. Said a 
prominent individual of this number, " There is no such thing 
as dying ; " and when interrogated as to the significance of 
such an expression, so contrary to all observation, there was 
only the indefinite reply, " I have beautiful views of the future, 



CSBISTS MISSION. 



199 



— it is only a blessed translation when we leave the world." 
Such indeed it is to hearty and true believers in revelation — . 
to those who have cordially embraced the hand of the never- 
failing Guide ; but not to those who refuse the light that can 
only illumine the dark vale, as this same soul found when the 
valley opened to view. Then the pale messenger on the white 
horse revealed his true name and character, and the meeting 
and the conflict were dreaded. Disciples of the system flocked 
into the chamber of death, shutting out the followers of Him 
who had conquered the enemy, lest a word of regret should go 
forth to weaken their cause and unsettle their faith. But the 
word went, "I am going to die, to be laid in the grave, and 
our error and philosophy are not that which will make a dying 
bed soft, or gild the tomb with brightness." When the spirit 
trembles between two worlds, every fictitious thing is removed ; 
all is solemn reality, and nothing avails but the friendship of 
Jesus. 

From the time Jesus came into the world death seemed a 
different thing. It was subject to his bidding. The two 
mourning sisters of Bethany deeply felt the desolations it 
made. When they saw their brother in his winding-sheet 
they thought it an end to all their happy intercourse on earth ; 
they wept that their circle was hopelessly invaded, and that 
the grave claimed what they loved so much, — for death was 
then, as now, a resolving of the body into its original dust, — 
passing a boundary not to be recrossed ; but the mighty, Incar- 
nate One would establish his claims, show his power, reveal 
his sympathizing nature, his divine mission ; and therefore he 
would deviate from the usual order, and bring back the de- 
parted. His lips parted, and the dark sepulchre, that had 
held its tenant three long days, resounded with the words of 
authority, " Come forth ! " Death yielded back his victim at 
the summons, the bands which encircled him were broken, and 
the living no longer stood with the dead, for death had fled. 
The weeping, sorrowing circle no longer bowed their heads in 



200 



CHRIST RES TOEING TO LIFE. 



grief and despair, but lifted them with songs of grateful acknowl- 
edgment to Him who had let the bound go free — the dead 
return. 

Death was a grievous reality to the stricken widow of Nain, 
as she followed close to the bier where her heart was bound, — 
lost to all things but the loneliness and anguish of her bereave- 
ment ; expecting nothing but a dreary waste for the remainder 
of her earthly pilgrimage, since the love and sympathy of her 
last and only one was taken from her. The Angel of Death, 
with " viewless wing," had borne her treasure away ; but there 
was one to note the act ; and all unconscious of his near ap- 
proach, the weeping mourner was following on to meet him. 
The meeting came ; and before the sacred Leader the throng 
paused, the slow tread ceased, cries were hushed, the bearers 
relinquished their hold, and the youthful dead lay still, cold 
and pulseless. Jesus looked upon the scene ; upon the lonely 
mother, and unbelieving crowd ; and, with a divine and holy 
purpose, that beamed in his heavenly eye, he said, " Young 
man, I say unto thee, arise ! " Suddenly the bubbling of 
life's fountain was heard ; the genial current flowed gratefully 
through the frozen veins ; the eye sparkled, the lips unclosed^ 
the countenance beamed with wonted fire, and the heart 
throbbed with a newness of joy. 

It is not easy to tell which was then the stronger emotion 
in the mother's heart : joy that her child was again given to 
her embrace, or gratitude because there was One that was able 
to deliver. 

Death, too, retired at his presence in the little chamber of 
the " damsel ; " but nowhere does it seem to us as it does when 
Christ himself stands, an illustrious sufferer, on mournful, yet 
delightful Cavalry ; when he dies on the cross — that cross 
that stirs all our pity and our grief, and is yet the centre and 
circumference of all our hopes ; — when he was conveyed to 
the garden tomb — a tomb that could not hold him, upon 
which victory and life were the appropriate inscriptions — 



CHRISTIAN VIEWS OF DEATH. 



201 



for then Death was vanquished. Jesus had conquered, and 
his people were free ; not free from the power of death over 
the physical nature, but having another and delightful free- 
dom, that God's people could fully appreciate and enjoy. 

Jesus hath removed the sting of death, so that multitudes 
since have acknowledged a " dying bed " to feel 

" Soft as downy pillows are." 
They have turned away from the promised luxury of earth — 
its silken couches and ease-inviting bowers — to lean upon the 
bosom of their Lord, and "breathe the life out sweetly there." 
Death to such is but the removal of " the outward bark of the 
tree " — the " scaling off, that the tree may expand with more 
thrift and freedom." It is exchanging an organism that is 
liable to jarring, friction, and decay, for one where all parts 
work with the most perfect harmony, and which is capable of 
producing the most glorious results from its tireless action. 

"Death is but a step," said an exultant believer, "and that 
step brings me into Paradise, with all its glory and celestial 
music." "'Tis but a friend," said another, "to introduce me 
to the angelic throng and the blood-washed multitude, and I 
hail it with joy, even long for its coming." And so the rider 
on the pale horse comes on, sending his arrows on every side, 
thinning the ranks of old and young, heedless of joy and care- 
less of sorrow, but finding a company who are ready to bare 
their bosoms to the influence of the dart, who have the excla- 
mation in their hearts, "Do thy work, 0 Death ! for thou dost 
but hasten the meeting we desire." 

"If our course is indeed progressive, our walk through the 
mystic galleries of the universe is from the more outward to 
those more inward, where God in greater fulness dwells ; but 
we must close the doors after us as we go ! Death is the 
orderly, and withal the beautiful, method of travelling inward 
and upward through those degrees of existence, whose wards 
unlock, one after another, toward the shining courts of the 
Eternal King. In that ascent it is a glorious privilege to die 



202 



LUTEEB. 



— to shut off the past when its ministries are done. Death 
does this, and no more, when the duties of one department 
have been accomplished. It shuts off the fore-scene, that no 
fond longings may make us keep looking back and reaching 
back with divided attention. What can we do with our mind 
parted and our affections cloven ? Death is shutting the door, 

— shutting it on a pleasing retrospect it may be, on sweet 
and loving faces, on objects around which fond memories cling, 
on skies that smiled over our infancy, and led on the gay pro- 
cession of our happy years ; but then another door opens higher 
upward through the solemn galleries ! "galleries, the exhibitions 
of which will keep the soul employed through all eternity by 
the inexhaustible variety and richness that will be manifest. 
These doings of Death with " pleasing retrospects " and " fond 
memories " would seem very strange without the key furnished 
by Jesus : the doors it closes would grate still more harshly 
were it not for the knowledge of inside glories, to appear when 
the time may come for the latch to be lifted. 

We see not all yet, for we are short-sighted in vision, and 
things look dim and dark oftentimes. The brilliant actor of 
the Keformation thought it a dark day for himself and the 
world when his companion and a fellow-laborer seemed about 
ready to enter this door, for he thought of a world lying in 
wickedness ; of the lamps he was preparing for the night of 
ignorance ; of the bondage of human souls, and the strength 
of the chains which bound them ; and he wanted just such a 
helper in the work of illumination and emancipation. " Trouble 
me not," said he, who had caught an inside glimpse. But prayer 
prevailed ; the uplifted latch was dropped, and the Christian 
hero returned to gather more laurels for his King, so that when 
he finally went in he carried a richer garland to lay upon the 
altar before the "great white throne." 

We see many pages in history that bear mysterious records ; 
that tell how kingdoms and governments suffer because Death 
removes men who love equity and justice, while he passeth by 



DEATH GOD'S MESSENGER. 



203 



the unjust and tyrannical ; because thrones have lost excellent 
judges, and retained " the haters of mankind." 

But these apparently doleful changes, these fearful and 
wide-spread desolations, are very much modified when we come 
to adopt the language of a sorrowing, yet a Christian and sub- 
missive heart, at the departure of a loved and needed friend : 
" O Death ! thou hast bereft us, but thou dost only execute the 
commission of a higher Power ; " that Power which is pledged for 
the safety and ultimate triumph of the good cause in the world. 
Then let Death ride abroad through the earth : he goes and 
comes at the divine bidding, subserves the divine purposes, and 
fulfils the mandate of the heavenly King. He is God's mes- 
senger, and is sent whithersoever He will, without explaining 
the reason why. 

All marvelled greatly when he sent it to the early missionary 
band, who had gone far over the seas to win souls to Jesus, 
singling out a devoted spirit before the work was begun ; and 
when, little later, one after another slept before they had pre- 
pared the ground for the seed. It seemed mysterious, and it 
will retain somewhat of its mystery until all " secrets shall be 
revealed ; " but even now we see how their ashes have power 
to quicken; how that, though dead, they speak effectually to 
promote the cause they loved. The dead who lie far off on 
rock-bound shores, or on sunny plains, who met the Destroyer, 
and fell before him, while engaged in the godlike work of re- 
claiming a lost world, are still furthering the object by their 
significant silence. "Come thou, expressive Silence, muse his 
praise," said the poet, when his spirit was too full of the beauty 
and loveliness of nature for utterance. But there is no silence 
like that of the holy dead to teach men wisdom, and lead to 
the unutterable. 

We wonder in a thousand instances that Death is sent just 
where he is ; that he breaks so many bright links in household 
chains ; that he takes the fairest, as if he delighted to people the 
tomb with such ; that he takes the brightest and best, as if he 



204 



CONSOLING VIEWS OF DEATH. 



exulted in his power to quench the light of lustrous eyes and 
blight the opening buds of virtue that promise so much ; that 
he removes so many plants before they have unfolded themselves 
to the watchful eye of the nursery guardians ; so many flow- 
ers before they blossom, and so many trees just as they begin 
to bear fruit. We are filled with amazement at the invasion 
of a charming circle, and ask why the blow could not have 
been spared and the sorrow averted. We see whole families 
removed, many broken households, many who have lost their 
" angels," who have seen them go to the Reaper's home on 
high ; we see the child torn from its mother's bosom, the father 
from his group of little ones, a chosen companion from the 
doting heart, and brothers and sisters weeping for those they 
have loved. There is scarce a fireside where the strange visitant 
hath not been, but a few where we cannot find those who 
have not a story to tell of the way they received the call, and 
what a change it made in their homes, — in their joys and hopes, 
— even in the world itself, for them. Ah ! 

" There is a Reaper whose name is Death, 
And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
And the flowers that grow between." 

These must be given up ; but when Faith takes us by the hand, 
and whispers that for the " Lord of Paradise " he binds them 
in his sheaves, — that the flowers "shall all bloom in fields of 
light," and that circles shall be united again, to remain perfect 
and true forever, — it is then that our wonder ceases, our 
amazement grows less, and our sorrow is no more hopeless and 
crushing. Death, indeed, will awaken sighs wherever and 
whenever he takes those that are loved. It will always be so 
in time. "Tears befit earth's partings." They cannot be 
withheld, and the hallowed drops which Jesus shed are a divine 
warrant for their indulgence. 

When we think there is another world where the pure and 
good may act, another sphere in which they may still work 



CONSOLING VIEWS OF DEATH. 



205 



right, and that more perfectly than they ever could do on earth, 
then we do not think it so strange that here and there, from 
Christian ranks, are taken the best and most devoted. When 
God bids Death to go and gather such, we mourn, but He 
writes, "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." " They 
enter into rest," they are infinite gainers, and we may not be 
losers if thereby we are stimulated to more perfect confidence in 
Him who alone can wisely plan the world's regeneration, or who 
knows better than man what will accomplish it. 

God overrules all things for good, though we may not see it. 
Wonders of love will burst upon the disembodied spirit as it 
mounts to Paradise, or as it sees displayed before it the way 
through which the Lord hath led it in the world from which 
death brought it. When immortal shall take the place of these 
mortal perceptions, who can describe the blessed vividness that 
will surround everything? The clear vision, the new relations, 
who shall tell the joy inspired by these tilings ? Christ hath 
purchased joys that none can understand while they are in the 
body. They are purely spiritual, and cannot be fully appreciated 
until every vestige of the mortal is removed. Why then should 
we so much fear to be " unclothed," when we may find it so much 
richer to be " clothed upon " with the garments a Saviour hath 
provided, — when we may so freely use those robes made after a 
divine pattern, which we have been told are expressly for our 
benefit ? 

Death is fearful, only as sin hath made it. If we call it a 
physical and moral evil, it is because sin hath made it so. 
Now it is " through much tribulation " that we can find en- 
trance into the kingdom, — through much suffering that the 
spirit is perfected. Death has various ways of doing its 
work ; at one time it employs the lightning's flash, and anon 
a lingering disease, taking down the earthly house so grad- 
ually that ere the soul is hardly aware, it is gone. It stalks 
forth on the watery waste to meet the ship that is freighted 
with human souls, and sends hundreds at once to their ocean 



206 



" THE COURT OF DEATH: 



bed and their last account. Sometimes it threatens men, — the 
poor and the rich, the peasant and the prince, — but delays long 
1 the fatal blow. 

One has said that " Diseases are a gang of foreign invaders 
which have broken into the house of life, or rather which have 
come in through the rents that the inmates themselves had 
made ;" but of this one thing we are assured by revelation, that 
there can be no more suffering and tribulation than God sees 
fit, or judges necessary, for the accomplishment of his purposes 
concerning us, — the perfecting of our spiritual natures. 

Death can use no methods but those sanctioned by divine 
wisdom, nor place his seal upon any one until the time ap- 
pointed. He has many ministers, but he can give none license 
to go forth on his work ; he can send forth none to fulfil his 
mission until God gives authority. They may sit in council, 
but all their deliberations and resolutions are as nothing until 
he approves and confirms. 

"The Court of Death" is the production of an artist who 
thought of these things, and transferred to canvas his mind's 
ideal, — an ideal referred to in Bishop Porteus' lines, — 

" Deep in a murky cave's recess, 
Laved by Oblivion's listless stream, and fenced 
By shelving rocks and intermingled horrors 
Of yew and cypress shade, from all obtrusion 
Of busy noontide beam, the monarch sits 
In unsubstantial majesty." 

He arose from the perusal of these to portray " Death and his 
Marshals," — to represent the character and distinctive feature 
of each, — and many have stood and looked upon the result of his 
efforts, have seen there the fearful group which Death sum- 
mons to his aid, and how unrelentingly he presses them into 
his service. The mighty monarch, coeval with the human 
race, is seated on a throne — a shroud-covered throne — sur- 
rounded by a pall, and on either side are his messengers waiting 
for his commands. War, Famine, Pestilence, Conflagration, 



DEATH CONQTJEBED BY FAITH. 



207 



and Intemperance, all stand with eyes of terrible meaning ; 
Dropsy, Fever, and Consumption are there to speak of penal- 
ties, and to point to the speedy consummation of life's work. 

None can gaze, and not think that the dreadful group, in dark 
array, would never have been known if sin had not come into 
the world ; that these hideous forms would never have existed, 
or even found a place in the brain of poet or artist, if prime- 
val innocence had been maintained. 

Notwithstanding this picture hath so much of grief and sad- 
ness in it, so much to remind us of the waste and ravages of 
sin, it yet furnishes a bright spot, that as we gaze kindles the 
soul into holy rapture, and makes the heart burn within for 
very joy. The waters of oblivion play around the feet of the 
terrible king, the head and feet of a prostrate victim touch 
the cold stream, adding to the general dismay, but just here is 
observed the radiant eye and beautiful form of Faith, support- 
ing and soothing an aged pilgrim who seems about ready to 
drop the robe of mortality, and bow willingly to the mandate 
of Him who sits upon the throne, since the sentence, he con- 
siders, started from his loving Lord, whom he hastens to meet, 
and whom, Faith assures him, will welcome him home. 

So Death and all his messengers may meet us in the way; 
for it is no mere vision, no illusion of the imagination, but a 
reality : yet, cheered and comforted by Faith, we may go all the 
way down to the dark valley, yes ! through all its windings, 
with rejoicing spirits, discerning light at the end, and exulting 
in the reward and the prospect. 

" The death which God ordains," says one, "is different from 
that which man makes . It is a stage in human progress to be 
passed, as we would pass from childhood to youth, or from 
youth to manhood, with the same consciousness of an ever- 
unfolding nature, and, under healthful conditions, as peacefully 
too ; for our souls would be full of the future, ever waiting to 
break into new life, but never thinking of death and decay. 
Immortality would not come upon us by surprise, but as man- 



208 



CHRIST MIGHTIER THAN DEATH. 



hood comes upon youth, as childhood comes upon infancy, or 
as the day comes upon darkness, melting away the bars of night 
in soft surges of golden fire. As the heavenly nature was un- 
folded, the earthly nature would fall away of itself, and so we 
should grow into our immortality ; for the man would grow into 
the angel, as the infant grows into the child. How pleasing 
the sight ! the generations following each other in unbroken 
ranks, youth treading on the steps of manhood, and manhood 
on the steps of age, no foe lurking in ambush to thin their 
ranks, and strew the way with the corpses of the young, but 
all moving on in charmed numbers to where the ranks of age 
disappear together, melting out of sight over the summits of the 
hill, their locks tinged and their features kindled in a light that 
streams from the country beyond." 

Something like to this arises in our minds when we read 
" the Preacher's " description of " man," as he " goeth to his long 
home," and we think of the loosening of the " silver cord," and 
the breaking of the " golden bowl ; " of the " pitcher," and the 
"wheel" at the "fountain," and the "cistern," but when we 
come to actual experience, we find with all this poetry there is 
much of stern and sad reality occasioned by conflicts with sin, 
and that the way home is more difficult and thorny than it was 
meant to be. The shrinking from dissolution which • nature 
feels is the result of sin. While we possess tainted natures, 
we must have different feelings from those consequent upon 
sinless lives and actions, upon perfect innocence, such as 
our first parents knew in their guiltless days. But " as by one 
man sin entered into the world, and death by sin," so through 
one, even Christ, a way has been opened — a highway, where 
Death may be met and vanquished ; a way with a gate at the 
end, and to those who have the king's certificate the porter 
openeth, disclosing mansions of everlasting bliss, where there is 
" no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, nor any such thing." 
Death may do his work upon earth, he may cut heartstrings, 
probe sensitive souls, desolate firesides, and send mourning and 



NO DEATH IN HEAVEN. 



209 



woe through the land, but he cannot enter the New Jerusalem, 
he cannot invade the joyous circles there. The blessed ranks 
in that kingdom will always remain the same undiminished 
host, never to be thinned or weakened, for no Destroyer goes 
up and down those more than sunbright plains. 

No more death ! How bleeding and mourning hearts rejoice 
in the anticipation of such a state, and how their hearts melt 
in grateful emotion toward Him " who led captivity captive," 
who triumphed over the foe, enabling his followers to say in the 
last hour, " O Death ! where is thy sting ? " " Thanks be to God 
which giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

" What is it to die ? " says the author of " the Better Land." 
"To believers, it is to drop the body of this death, and to put 
on a joyous immortality ; to pass from darkness to everlasting 
sunlight ; to cease dreaming, and commence a waking exist- 
ence ; yes, to awake in the likeness of God, satisfied, fully and 
forever satisfied." 

What is it to die ? To feel the last pang, to shed the last 
tear, to raise the shield of faith against Satan's last dart ? It is to 
go home to God ; to open the eyes on the enthroned Mediator ; 
to close the ears upon all discords, all sounds of woe, all the 
falsehoods, the maledictions, the blasphemies of earth, and 
open them to the harmonies of heaven. What is it to die? 
It is to stop sinning, to cease grieving the spirit and grieving 
the Saviour ; to close up the inconsistencies of terrestrial pro- 
bation, and commence a forever blameless life in bliss. What 
is it to die ? To lean on the Almighty for a few steps down 
a narrow valley ; to step out of Jordan upon the borders of the 
better land ; to pass up to the New Jerusalem ; to enter by 
one of those gates of pearl into the city ; to have ten thousand 
angels come and utter their cordial welcome : to see — O, let 
me die the death of the righteous ! — to see the Saviour smile 
benignantly, and to hear him say, " Well done, good and faith- 
ful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord ! " This it is, 
to die. 

14 



210 



THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH BLESSED. 



No wonder the dying saint exclaimed " Blessed dying ! " since 
the prospect is so glorious. No wonder that Hall, as he 
"passed through glory's morning gate," shouted "Glory! 
Glory ! " as he went ; and that Jane way found no language to 
express the emotions of his exultant soul when it was nearing 
the Paradise above. 

No wonder that Christians call the day of death " the last, 
the best birthday ; " that their impatient spirits sometimes cry, 
"Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly," and change this hope to 
full fruition — to pure, perfect, and joyous experience. Thus 
does the Christian triumph as he returns to dust this earthly 
frame ; but 

" no terrestrial bairn 
Nature's dissolving agony could calm." 

It is divine grace that robs the "king" of his "terrors," and 
makes the meeting one of gladness — the day of final adieu to 
weariness and sadness, to conflict and sin. Then it will not be 
thought strange that we pronounce that a happy day, 

" "When the heaven-sick soul is stealing away." 



THE GRAVE. 



211 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE GEAVE. 

Grave faithful to its Trust. — Associations of Jesus' Grave. — Voice issu- 
ing from it. — The Grave as regarded by heathen and unchristian 
Nations. — Christian Views. — As a Home. — A Harbor. — A Besting- 
Flace. — As the Threshold of Heaven. 

" There is a calm for those who weep, 
A rest for weary pilgrims found : 
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, 

Low in the ground." — Montgomery. 

" 0, the grave ! the grave ! what a place for meditation." — Irving. 

When the poet-soul had grateful thoughts of the " rest " and 
the " calm " of the grave, he had in mind only those " pilgrims " 
whom Faith had conducted down the valley, and whose expiring 
eyes had kindled with the holy rapture of gospel hopes. Such 
only can "softly lie and sweetly sleep." The pillow and the 
couch which the grave offers to such afford the most delightful 
repose ; it is the 

" blessed sleep, 
From which none ever wake to weep," — 

the dreamless state, which is never disturbed by troublesome 
visions and dark fancies, and the "bed" which "Jesus hath 
blessed " and made easy. It is called the narrow house — the 
one "appointed for all living," where those of all ages and 
conditions meet on a common level, forming a vast assembly 
through which universal silence reigns — silence how impress- 
ive ! We ask the mighty throng to tell us the secrets of the 
grave, and we hear a voice, but not from them, saying, " There 
is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the 
grave whither thou goest." 



212 



GRAVE FAITHFUL TO ITS TRUST. 



It is an end of mortality — of all tilings pertaining to this 
life. It may be the last, secure retreat, where the storms and 
tempests of earth may beat all unheeded over our silent dust ; 
the resting-place after having passed " through sorrow's night 
and danger's path," with weary, anxious gaze, and the peaceful 
haven after a restless and wave-tossed voyage. 

It is a quiet home ; no leaving it until the resurrection morn- 
ing, and then the tenants shall come forth from their lonjr- 
inhabited dwellings where the dust and mould of ages had 
collected; — the antediluvians from the virgin soil, patriarchs 
from Machpelah's hold, Moses from his lonely mountain grave, 
David from the place where his flesh had rested in hope, apos- 
tles and martyrs from their heights or depths, missionaries 
from their sea-girt places of rest, ransomed heathen from their 
lowly abodes, and a vast company who had found their ever- 
lasting retirement in ocean deep, on scorching plains, or more 
favored recess. 

What has been committed to its trust the grave will faith- 
fully keep until that day when all shall be called forth from 
their chambers, and in one vast procession move to meet the 
Lord in the brightness of his coming, the glory of his power. 
The dust which he has guarded with such tender interest will 
then take on a glorified form, and be to the everlasting praise 
of the infinite Eedeemer, who hath made death and the grave 
far less to be dreaded ; yea, even to be desired, since they are 
but as the portal to an immortal land — the threshold over 
which one may step into heaven's room of magnificent propor- 
tion. When his crucified body was lovingly borne to the sep- 
ulchre in the garden, and that tomb "wherein never man was 
laid " was hallowed by his sacred touch, there went forth a 
holy light to hover around the precincts of the grave, and pour 
divine illumination upon every spot where the ashes of man 
were found. What a place was that where Jesus was laid ! 
How the hearts of his disciples — of his weeping, sorrowing 
ones — centred there ! Thither their willing feet tended at 



LESSONS OF JESUS' GRAVE. 



213 



M break of day," and there their love kept them watching, in 
spite of wicked sentinels and designing priests. Guards and 
stony seals might be multiplied, but what were these before 
that power they had so often seen exercised by Him whom the 
rocks held in a temporary embrace? There they sat "over 
against " the sepulchre, musing and mourning until the angels, 
with radiant countenances, came down to tell them the sacred 
sleeper had arisen and gone abroad to his work. "Come, see 
the place where the Lord lay," was the cheering invitation 
of the heavenly visitant ; and what a delightful moment was 
that to the fearful but rejoicing Marys, when they saw the grave 
spoiled of its victim, their blessed Lord having triumphed, 
" victorious over all " ! 

The joys and hopes which animated them in the garden so 
many centuries ago, still gladden and inspire the followers 
of Jesus. Delight and gratitude overflowed their hearts at 
the intelligence of a powerless grave and a risen Redeemer. 
And so the garden and the sepulchre have been rich in as- 
sociation and promise to Christian disciples ever since. They 
have met the cold embrace of death, and looked into their silent 
house without fear ; for they remember how Jesus burst the 
tomb and ascended to glory, and how he said, " I go to prepare 
a place for you." They seem to hear his voice, assuring them, 
" You may die, but death shall not harm your spirits ; you 
may be laid in the grave, but it cannot confine the powers of 
your being to earth, it cannot imprison the soul, nor fetter and 
cramp it. The tomb is for the body, and the body for the 
tomb ; but as I have risen, so your souls shall arise, to live and 
act with me." 

But is this view of the grave the view of all mankind? 
Were we asked of everything pertaining to the grave, — of its 
power, its promise, its darkness or its light, and required 
to give a comprehensive answer, — one that would be fully and 
perfectly satisfactory, we should say — Jesus. 

In him is centred the light of life, and the light of death. 



214 MAHOMETAN VIEW OF THE GRAVE. 

From him emanate the only rays which have power to gild the 
tomb. He is the only sun that shines into the chambers of 
the dead, and consequently the only one that can disperse the 
gloom and the darkness which surround them. Those cham- 
bers have shutters which none but he can open ; they have 
springs that none but he can touch ; and opening, he reveals 
what none other but himself can show. The walls are in- 
scribed with meaning sentences that none but he can inter- 
pret ; the floors are covered with a fabric of glorious texture 
which he hath wrought, of rich material that needs just the 
peculiar shade of light he knows how to let fall upon it, to 
show its richness and its beauty. 

The couches are hung with canopies that touch the skies, 
and fall in protecting folds about the sleepers — his guests, 
for whom he has made such special provision. 

It follows, then, that those who have never heard of Jesus 
cannot have a right nor cheerful view of the grave. 

There is no one to unlock the house for them, no one to 
show them on what a foundation it stands, to tell them of its 
substantial basis, or to conduct them to where the life-sriving" 
sentences appear, and where the soft couches are spread. 

The grave, to people and nations without the true knowl- 
edge, is a dark and uncertain place. All their visits to it, and 
all their associations with it, are forbidding and unpleasant. 

When the Mahometans place a friend upon his earthy pillow, 
for his everlasting rest, they believe him to be visited by 
Monker and Nakir, two black, livid angels, of terrific appear- 
ance, whose mission is to examine the new comer to the shades 
concerning his faith in the Koran, according to the measure of 
which depends the character of the sentence they pronounce. 
If one of the faithful, they believe his body to be refreshed 
with the air of Paradise, which courses in some unseen way 
through the narrow apartment assigned him ; if unfaithful, it 
resounds with the cries of anguish that are wrung from him by 
heavy and repeated strokes from the examiners. This being 



CHINESE VIEW OF THE GRAVE. 



215 



done, the earth is pressed upon the lifeless form, and it is left, 
with the expectation of fearful experience, with a multiplicity 
of dragons, until the morning of resurrection. 

How unlike this to the grave we visit with our Jesus ! What 
a contrast between the piteous howls, as they pile the cold clods 
upon the senseless ones, and the hopeful committal the Chris- 
tian makes ! between their piercing screams and the chastened 
grief of those whom the divine Hand sustains when the tomb 
unveils its bosom, and takes to its trust the loveliest and dear- 
est of treasures ! 

Libations are poured out upon the graves of the Chinese ; 
perfumed candles send forth a sickly glare, as if struggling to 
light the spot ; flags wave in the breeze that sweeps by ; figures 
of men, clothes, and horses, cut from paper, are burned upon 
the place of the dead, in the firm persuasion that the objects 
thereby represented will attend him into the other world. Tents 
are erected ; meats offered to the memory of the departed ; 
eulogies pronounced, followed by prostration upon the grave, 
in profound silence; and the company disperse, a band of 
wretched ones, though they know it not. 

Other nations convey their dead to their homes, with pres- 
ents of various weapons, provision, and garments ; horses, and 
other animals, for their comfort, convenience, or actual neces- 
sity in the long journey upon which they have set out from the 
grave's border, or for their entertainment while shut out from 
their friends in their earthy prison-house. 

Similar to this has been the custom of the Araucanians, a 
Chilian band of courage and enterprise, but ignorant, especially 
in sacred things. Fearing that the soul may return to its 
earthly abode, and begin a new order of things, the way to 
the tomb is strewed with ashes, — an act considered of so 
much power and merit as to prevent the unwelcome visit, and 
deter the startled resurrection. Satisfied that the soul is 
fully bent on its future journey, and that much will still be 
requisite for its maintenance and guidance, they deposit what 



216 



GRECIAN VIEW OF TEE GRAVE. 



they deem necessary or desirable in the grave, and depart, 
with many wishes for a safe and happy transport to the world 
of spirits. 

Dancings and feastings are strangely mingled with all their 
funeral rites, for the significance of the change which death has 
wrought, and the prescribed power of the grave, are all a mys- 
tery to them. They and all untaught nations know that a 
spoiler is among them. They need not be told of this, for 
they witness his ravages, and are not uninfluenced by the blight 
which falls upon themselves and others ; but when they come 
to look down into the open grave, they see not the ladder which 
Christian faith has constructed and planted, whereon ascending 
and descending angels are seen intent upon their ministries of 
love to human spirits upon earth, or gently bearing those up- 
ward who have left the world. It is faith that illumines the 
grave — that robs it of its gloom. 

In a picture of grief, alluding to the Greeks, are these 
words : — 

" A wail was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young; 
Amidst her tears the funeral chant a mournful mother sung," — 

sung words indicative of despair and hopeless sorrow. And 
why? Because the grave claimed the son of her hopes, the 
pride of her heart, and it was accounted an end. There have 
always been " mourning mothers " to sing in sorrow of heart 
for ended hopes and joys over early graves ; but there is an 
element in the songs of Christian nations that is all unknown 
to others. There is a strain that goes deeper down into the 
soul, and by its soothing melody eases the aching, wounded 
spirit as nothing else can. There are notes of richer and more 
gladsome sound, that make the anthem instead of the dirge, 
and soft, sweet harmonies where otherwise would be only loud 
and noisy lamentation. 

Those who have never heard these tunes upon the gospel 
harp can never know the power of the heavenly music — its 
power to subdue and comfort, to quell anguish, especially that 



THE GRAVE A HOME. 



217 



which arises when the grave opens. A lighted sepulchre is not 
a merely figurative thing with us. What was it to many people 
in the past? Let the sickly glare of their melting tapers 
answer. 

There is a sense in which these laid far more than we in the 
dark bosom of the earth, for "their gems were lost in ashes." 
Ours is a loftier faith, and we see light where all to them is 
darkness. The spirit-jewels are not lost to us, but only gath- 
ered to be kept ; and when we give them up it is with this re- 
flection — the Jeweller in heaven will take care of them ; they 
shall yet reappear to our gaze, clear and transparent, or less 
lustrous, as they merit. The grave with us, as with them, is 
a receptacle for the lifeless, worn-out body ; but when we care- 
fully deposit our treasures there, we may thank God there are 
so many other associations connected with it to make it pleasant 
and hopeful. What is the grave to the Christian ? 

It is a home. 

" I long to be laid in the grave, for it will be my silent and 
peaceful home," said one ; and who was it that gave utterance 
to such desires ? We might suppose such language not inap- 
propriate to the tired pilgrim who had seen much of trial, who had 
seen one after another go out from his circle until its charm 
was gone and the happy home desolate, and there was no place 
left for the heart to stay. When the loved and loving are 
buried, living hearts go too to the burial ; and if they are not 
entombed, they linger there to keep ceaseless- vigils with the 
dead, until memory dies out, or death calls them away. 
These graveyard lingerings put a new aspect upon the world, 
and it is not very strange that those who have experienced 
multiplied strokes should grow weary, and think of a peaceful 
home ; but it was not such that breathed this longing. Life 
was never spread out in fairer prospect to any one than to her, 
when the "pale finger" of consumption beckoned her to go. 
Hope never beamed so brightly upon her pathway as then. 
The wealth of her young heart was given, and an equal legacy 



218 



TEE GRAVE A HARBOR, 



was hers in return ; and anticipation was busy in dreams of 
coming happiness. Could this be resigned for the grave, and 
all the rich and blessed associations of home? The grave 
should be a home — a silent and peaceful one, where no 
sorrow should come, no anxiety should disturb. 

She died, and was carried to her quiet home. Loving hands 
adorned it with flowers, and made it pleasant to look upon ; 
then turning away, thought of her as roaming through beauti- 
ful streets and glorious mansions, realizing all the bliss of a 
perfect home continually. It was a brief and happy period 
she spent on earth ; and many others, of kindred spirit, have 
hailed the opening grave as the reception into a congenial 
home — a home for the weary body — while the spirit flies afar 
in exultant liberty. 

In how many instances has the sentence trembled on the lips 
of dying saints, " I am almost home ; I shall rest in the grave ! " 
" There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary 
are at rest." 

The grave is also called a "peaceful harbor." When the 
, mariner has been long tossed on a tempestuous ocean, subject 
to constant agitation, and threatened by the ever-recurring 
storm, none can tell with what an intense thrill of delight he 
welcomes the hour when he can drop anchor in a safe and quiet 
harbor. 

Rocks, shoals, and breakers, waves and billows, are all for- 
gotten then ; so, as the Christian lies down in his narrow berth, 
he is at rest, for the anchor is secure, the ship safe ; past dan- 
gers are all unheeded, and he rejoices in having reached the 
port of peace. 

The ocean of life is often very rough — stirred by many 
tempests. If we go up to the heights, we as often go down 
into the depths, until so weary with the struggles and tossings, 
we sigh for some place where they will be at an end. Often- 
times the darkness is great, and no light appears on all the 
dreary waste, and we cry, in earnestness of spirit, — 



OUR BEST ABOVE. 



219 



" 0, show us a star for the tempest-tost ranger, 
A lighthouse, a beacon, to point out the danger ; 
O, bring us a Pilot to guide us safe through, 
That never will leave us till the port is in view." 

When Faith and Hope come in answer, sending their beams 

athwart the gloom, they point to the grave, saying, Ye are 

nearing that harbor — 'tis a harbor of peace ; though for a time 

the waters be turbid and angry, at the end they are as smooth 

as glass, and as clear as crystal. 

" The grave is a resting-place." 

How sweetly repose and rest sound to those who have borne 
the burden and heat of the day, the fatigue and weariness of 
toil and suffering ! To the invalid, tossed upon a couch of 
pain, counting the slow march of hours through sleepless 
days and nights, the thought of rest revives fainting courage, 
and lessens the severity of protracted disease. " The rest of 
the grave will be all the sweeter," was the comforting assur- 
ance whispered in the ears of a sufferer — one who had known 
for many years the various tortures that come through a dis- 
ordered nervous organization. His eye kindled with holy ani- 
mation as he replied, "I know there will be no rest for my poor 
body until it reaches the grave ; but when I consider that that 
is forever undisturbed, the suffering which must intervene van- 
ishes away, and seems as nothing, though indeed it be manifold." 

A few years ago a class of young ladies went forth from a 
seminary, to commence their life-work in the Lord's vineyard, 
with the thrilling motto inscribed upon gold, and more imper- 
ishably upon their hearts, " Our rest is above." They went 
forth to endure, to battle, to encounter hardship and privation 
in various forms ; but amid all, there was ever to be the de- 
lightful anticipation of the rest above. 

Through the grave is the path to the "above." They were 
to keep their weapons bright, and maintain a ceaseless conflict, 
seeking no rest, and expecting none, until this goal was 
reached, until the path was opened that led to the place of 
reward — the blessed rest in heaven. 



220 GRAVE TEE VESTIBULE TO HEAVEN. 



The character of our earthly discipline may he such, and 
often is such, as to try and task every energy of being, to 
stretch continually every fibre of the soul with most painful 
tension ; and what could sustain the spirit under its peculiar 
burdens but the consideration of coming rest ? 

The heart would often sink, and the spirit faint, under the 
accumulated woes of time, were it not for the hope of the 
"rest that remaineth" when the duties of life are all done. At 
the end of the race the burdens are all laid down ; and the 
thought encourages the burdened pilgrim to toil and struggle 
on until the time to lay his garments by, " upon his bed to rest ; " 
until 

" Beyond the confines of the tomb 
Appears the dawn of heaven." 

The grave is indeed a resting-place to the Christian — a 
painless couch, upon which he lies down to a more blissful re- 
pose than he has ever known or conceived, even in his best ideals 
of rest. Wrapped in the drapery of death, he may lie silently, 
but peacefully; and those who frequent the place need not 
"tread softly," for no mortal footstep can ever disturb the 
sleeper in the grave. It is profound slumber there ; and to 
those who know not Jesus, who see not a loving one in Him 
who gathers and watches over the dead, it is not strange that 
the grave seems a " mysterious realm," a land of shades, of 
silence and forgetfulness, to be put out of mind by the living, 
and to shrink from in dying. 

Home, rest, and peace are only associated with the grave 
when it is viewed as a vestibule to heaven ; when it is looked 
upon only as the body's place, since other springs must be 
touched before can be discovered the residence of the soul. 
Death is a 

" stupendous change : 
There lies the soulless clod. 
The Sun eternal breaks, 
The new immortal wakes — 
Wakes with his God ! " 



CEBISTIAN AT TEE GRAVE. 



221 



There is no sleep so deep as that upon the lap of earth. 
Once pillowed upon its cold bosom, and surrounded by its 
all-embracing arms, there is no change. It is a long and 
dreamless sleep ; bat nestling child upon its mother's bosom 
never laid its head down more confidingly than does the 
trusting Christian, when his loving Lord spreads a covering 
for his weary body, and draws his spirit to his own arms, there 
to find all his tears dried and his sorrows hushed by the sooth- 
ing voice of his heavenly Guardian. 

We visit the place of the dead — the place of graves, and we 
are sad. We plant the cypress, the yew, and the willow, all 
indicative of grief and mourning ; and while we stand in the 
shade, we say, Alas that they were called away! that they must 
be silent and alone in their narrow homes ! We go about with 
downcast countenances and subdued voices, thinking that in all 
the world there is no place like the grave for sorrow of heart ; 
that there is nothing so relentless, so cruel, as the eager earth, 
which continually says, Give me your treasures ; they belong to 
me, and I claim mine own. 

We see one after another go to the company that congregate 
in the silent halls ; we fall in with the slow and solemn proces- 
sion that attends them to the door, and our tearful sighs and 
reluctant farewells show how we regard their death. We would 
not have them go ; we would not have them lone tenants of the 
tomb ; we would fain linger, and watch like so many sentinels 
to guard the dust. But is this meet for the Christian ? Are 
these the appropriate thoughts, the right feelings to be cherished, 
while standing by the tomb, that unveils its bosom for the 
reception of the faithful — those who only pass through the grave 
to their home in the skies? There will never be any more 
"cares to break their long repose," nothing to disturb its perfect 
serenity ; and to rejoice with them in the final termination of 
every conflict would seem more fit than the indulgence of selfish 
and uncontrollable grief. 

A bereaved widow, in sable robes, bent over the grave of her 



222 



TEARS OF JESUS. 



youthful husband, musing thus : "Here lies all that I love. O 
that I could lie down too with the insensible, the unconscious, 
and forget all my anguish ! " But is this the spirit with which 
we should visit such places? 

It has been often said that " J esus wept " at the grave of 
Lazarus. But who can tell what were the emotions of our 
divine and compassionate Lord in that moment ? There was no 
selfishness, it is true, in those tears. We may weep at the 
grave, and be better for it ; but when grief is unsealed to 
foster the unfitting lamentations of questionable submission, it 
wears a channel for streams of bitterness to pour in upon the 
soul with devastating power. The grave should be a place to 
inspire high and holy purposes, to beget pure and benevolent 
desire, and to insure rapid preparation for the fulfilment of our 
mission which remains on this side. If there are altars to be 
built, and sacrifices to be made, we should turn from these 
places to prepare the wood and kindle the fires, in more strict 
obedience to the divine calls. Then, when we iterate our oft- 
repeated acknowledgment, I am going to the grave, we shall 
do it with less of despondency in our tones, and less of shrinking 
in our hearts, for the halo that circles a well-filled life will arch 
the grave's entrance with light and beauty. 

The cemeteries of the present day are places of loveliness. 
Such they should be. Take Nature's choicest spots ; let the foun- 
tains murmur and the rivulets sparkle ; let the green valley and 
the shaded hill-top mingle in the scene ; bring flowers of rarest, 
loveliest form, and let them blossom all along the borders around 
the quiet home of the dead, for it makes us think of the " green 
pastures," the "crystal stream," and the fadeless flowers of 
which we have been told as belonging to Paradise — that place 
where the happy dead have gone. 

At Greenwood, that place where lie so many dead, and 
where gather so many loving hearts, there is a magnificent gate- 
way, or entrance, at which stands a porter mindful of those who 
seek admittance there. Who can enter and not think of another 



THE OB AVE FLOWERS. 



223 



porter and another gate? of another entrance more sublimely 
grand and more intensely solemn than all others ? Those who 
pass through this may never come out, while those who have a 
passport there may wander through the " dim aisles" and return. 

Death is the porter at one gateway, and pointing at the rising 
monuments on the hills and the valleys, he says, Go read what 
they say, and remember that "dust thou art, and unto dust 
shalt thou return." This is the language of the graveyard. 
This is the conviction that always forces itself home upon the soul 
whenever we visit these silent abodes that Death has peopled ; yet 
we say, " Bring flowers " and strew them all along, and perchance 
they may take root in this dust, and bloom to the praise of Him 
who caused immortal hopes to bud and blossom around the grave. 

" Make my grave an attractive spot," said one, "for I would 
have it a place of happy teaching ; " and such it should be, 
such it will be, if the sleeper rests in Jesus; for "he being 
dead, yet speaketh." 

" Who will go with me into the dark grave ? " said a lisping 
child, who was passing away, to her weeping parents : " will you 
go, papa? will you go, mamma?" And when they told her it 
could not be, tears fell upon the wan cheek of the little sufferer ; 
but in a little time smiles chased the tears, for she said, " I have 
asked Jesus, and he has promised to go. Farewell, father; 
farewell, mother : the grave is not dark now." It is this that 
gives blessedness to all experience, that enables so many to go 
to the grave so full of hope and confidence, even anticipation ; 
for they meet Jesus, and he conducts them through. No 
wonder that the good Dr. Bonar talked thus of the "little 
while," as he considered these things : — 

" Beyond the smiling and the weeping 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the waking and the sleeping, 
Beyond the sowing and the reaping, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 



224 



SONARS ETMN. 



"Beyond the blooming and the fading 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the shining and the shading, 
Beyond the hoping and the dreading, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

"Beyond the rising and the setting 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the calming and the fretting, 
Beyond remembering and forgetting, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

" Beyond the parting and the meeting 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the farewell and the greeting, 
Beyond the pulse's fever beating, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come. 

*' Beyond the frost- chain and the fever 
I shall be soon ; 
Beyond the rock waste and the river, 
Beyond the ever and the never, 
I shall be soon. 
Love, rest, and home ! 

Sweet home ! 
Lord, tarry not, but come." 



LIFE'S EPOCHS. 



225 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE RESURRECTION. 

Life's Epochs. — Insufficiency of Human Philosophy. — Analogy of Nature. 

— Scripture Declarations. — Christ's Resurrection a Pledge to Believers. 

— Whately's Opinion. — TJwmpson's. — Bible Evidence sufficient. — 
Soids will sparkle as Gems in the Redeemer's Crown at the Last. 

" Shall I be left abandoned in the dust, 

When fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? 

Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, 

Deny him, doomed to perish, hope to live ? 

Is it for this fair virtue oft must strive 

With disappointment, penury, and pain ? 

No ; heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive, 

And man's majestic beauty bloom again, 
Bright through the eternal year of love's triumphant reign." — Beatiie. 

It has been said there are " four grand epochs " in the his- 
tory of every renewed soul, of every sinner saved by grace — 
the first, the hour of natural birth, when he opened his eyes 
upon this world, to commence a career that should run on eter- 
nally ; the second, the time of blessed consecration, when a 
vital union is established between the penitent spirit and a 
forgiving Saviour ; the third, the hour of death, the close of 
probation, when soul and body are separated for a season, the 
one to return to the earth as it was, the other unto God who 
gave it, free from sin, and ready for glory ; and the last, that 
of resurrection, which consummates the whole. The highest 
style of sublimity is stamped upon all this ; for a glorious 
Being hath wrought the pattern, and he works as none other 
can work. Such a fitting process none other ever did institute, 
or ever will. To the angels it is a mystery. The highest 
15 



226 



LIFE'S EPOCHS. 



intelligences of heaven look down with adoring wonder upon 
these epochs in human history, and cannot understand how 
every blessing should culminate in redemption for erring, 
apostate man, why so much of grandeur should be associated 
with the fallen race. It is a marvellous thing, and exalts 
infinitely above all conception the character of Him who 
planned and executed the great scheme, and spread it out for 
the delighted gaze of men and angels through all eternity. 

But of all these periods, the last, — the grand finale in man's 
history, — the resurrection, has more of mystery to us than 
any other. We see opening life, and watch its develop- 
ments, without pausing to consider that there is anything very 
wonderful in this. It seems more natural than otherwise 
that the soul, while ruminating upon its origin and its destiny, 
should turn itself to its Divine Source, and yield itself in love 
and homage to Him who made it. It does not seem strange 
to us that the body should succumb to the power of disease, 
and meet decay. We see death do its work, now slowly and 
silently, and again suddenly. It is the lot of all ; we see this 
and we know it. We see the mortal part laid in the grave, 
but the immortal is out of sight. We cannot follow it to know 
aught that befalls it. An impenetrable veil is drawn over all, 
that the keenest vision cannot pierce. The natural eye cannot 
discern the faintest outline of that landscape which opens 
before the spirit set free from earth ; but how does it affect 
the spirit ? No voice has ever come back to tell us ; and indeed, 
if there had, we doubt if the dialect would have been intelli- 
gible to mortal ears, or if the emotions of such a one could be 
symbolized by any words that our language affords. The dead 
have passed into another sphere, and all things are new. The 
medium of communication is new, and the things to be com- 
municated are also new. The spirit relations cannot be meas- 
ured or defined by any in this life, and there is no vehicle of 
expression with mortals, no avenue through which may be 
conveyed sight or sound ; so that there must ever remain the 



PHILOSOPHY INSUFFICIENT. 



227 



most profound ignorance of what happens to the spirit after 
the dissolution of the body, until we come to that revelation 
which He who came from heaven has brought for the purpose 
of giving light to the grave, and all that comes after. No 
merely human philosophy would have conceived the idea of a 
resurrection. It might have conceived immortality sooner ; 
might have made a higher style of life to be the result of 
death, as the pagan philosophers of antiquity often attempted. 

It might have speculated upon the elements and capacity of 
spirit, and theorized upon future probabilities, until some sort 
of system was wrought out that would attract the novelty- 
loving mind ; but, after all, it would be but baseless theory, 
that would never abide the test which the earnest spirit is ever 
inclined to apply. 

" How can the dead be raised up ? " is a question that phi- 
losophy cannot answer, unless it be that philosophy which came 
down from God out of heaven. That alone is adequate for a 
satisfactory reply. Nature indeed hath analogies. In more 
than one instance she betokens a rising again ; but who could 
determine between the seeming resemblances and the actual? 
Who could tell with a certainty whether the natural signified 
anything of the spiritual, — whether the finger that points to 
the result be in the right direction or not ? Thousands of little 
creatures become immured in their self-made graves, and event- 
ually emerge to a new and more brilliant existence ; they leave 
their grovelling position on the earth to mount and fly in the 
air ; but who ever found this the door through which a clear 
insight into the mysteries of the resurrection was obtained ? 

It may be an easy thing to imagine that man, so much no- 
bler and better, possessing a soul "pregnant with celestial 
fire," should find this part of his being arising to some pro- 
portionate existence ; but who would dream that the inanimate 
form committed to the grave could ever arise and come forth, 
beautiful and glorified, unless the thought came from some 
divine and well-authenticated revelation? 



228 



ANALOGIES IN NATURE. 



The teachings of Nature in this, as in some other points we 
have noticed, are interesting so far as they go. We find beau- 
tiful types, but those things which are shadowed forth are al- 
ways dim and indistinct, until we come into the transparent 
atmosphere of that Word which reveals them in clear perspec- 
tive. It is difficult, perhaps, to tell how much we might have 
learned from the former, since our ideas have always been 
gratefully associated with the latter; but we cannot be too 
careful in referring all important questions to the decisions 
of unerring Wisdom. If Nature fails, Scripture cannot; but, 
since both have the same Author, we find that one but con- 
firms the other, though, as compared, one is darkness and the 
other light. 

The insect resurrection, already alluded to, is supposed to 
typify the human being — its terrestrial form, apparent death, 
and ultimate celestial destination. "And it seems much 
more extraordinary," says Robert Boyle, "that a sordid and 
crawling worm should become a beautiful and active fly — 
that an inhabitant of the dark and fetid dunghill should, in an 
instant, entirely change its form, rise into the blue air, and 
enjoy the sunbeams — than that a being whose pursuits have 
been after truth and an undying name, and whose purest hap- 
piness has been derived from the acquisition of intellectual 
power and finite knowledge, should rise hereafter into a state 
of being where immortality is no longer a name, and ascend 
to the source of unbounded power and infinite wisdom." Shall 
the insect burst the " dark chrysalis," and spread its wings ex- 
ulting! y to roam in a new sphere and enjoy a new life, and 
shall not 

" we into new existence spring, 
Freed from the fetters of this cumbering clay ? 

From the dim portals of the silent tomb, 
Shall we triumphant rise and soar away, 

Leaving the darkness of that land of gloom, 
For the bright sunshine of an endless day ? " 

The highest end must surely be reserved for the noblest part 



ANALOGIES IN NATURE. 



229 



of creation, and "it doth not yet appear" what man will be 
when he emerges from the present into the future — when he 
bursts his mortal coils, and leaves behind the chrysalis of earth. 
The new and glad career of the butterfly, so far superior to its 
former state, may shadow forth the path of a bright-winged 
seraph, mounting to the celestial regions, rejoicing in the 
ineffable glory of that Sun which fills all heaven with its 
brightness. 

But there are other things in Nature that seem to render a 
resurrection at least highly probable. We have based strong 
presumptions of a future life upon the principles of our being, 
the actions which flow from us, as well as the consideration of 
things without us. In like manner we may obtain evidence in 
favor of our present theme. 

Every twenty-four hours of our life we behold a revolution 
amounting to a resurrection. The day opens in brightness and 
beauty ; the sun wheels his chariot in the sky steadily toward 
the western horizon, riding on until the whole is lost in night, 
buried in silence and darkness ; and what is our pledge that it 
will ever gladden our earth by its reappearance ? 

We wait for the voice of the morning to open the grave of 
darkness, to bid the sun come forth from the chamber whither 
he had retired, and revivify the dead of night. It comes, but 
never until the appointed time. In vain the weary watcher at 
the grave of night may cry, "Arise, 0 Morning, and disperse 
the gloom." So many moments must the curtain be down, 
so many hours must the pall be spread, before they can be 
lifted for the entrance of new light — the beoinnino* of a 
new day. 

To this diurnal resurrection succeeds another — that of the 
annual. As the day dies into night, and is gone from us, so 
doth the summer fall, a helpless thing, into the icy arms of 
winter, there to find its certain burial. As the stern monarch 
approaches to place his seal upon her beautiful form, a chill 
runs through all her system ; she is no longer able to keep 



230 ANALOGY IN SUMMER AND WINTER. 



up her wonted vigor, but gradually dies. The garlands she 
had woven begin to wither, until the hill and the valley, the 
mossy glade and the woodland dell, have no more a trace of 
those things she planted there. The grateful odors and the 
rich perfumes die out, for the fair proprietor is dying, and 
hath no more power, no more skill for the delicate art. The 
countless leaves of the forest, that have been as so many strings 
to the harp the wind hath played, begin to lose their power 
and fail altogether. That which kept them in tune descends 
into the roots, and there lies in its own grave. The leaves 
gather around the spot as so many mourners ; the earth puts 
on its shroud of white, and we stand as it were by one mighty 
sepulchre, wherein lie buried all the fair and beautiful ; but 
there comes a time, as we are musing, when we are reminded 
of a new order of things. We see a movement among the 
things we had called sere and dead ; they begin to rise ; the 
plants and flowers peep out of their graves, lay aside the bands 
which had encircled them, revive, and grow, and flourish ; the 
trees begin to prepare their strings, and all Nature is jubilant, 
for the time of resurrection has come, and newness of life is 
the anthem to be sung. 

Then the husbandman goeth forth to his work to furnish us 
with another figure, for " the corn by which we live, and for 
want of which we perish with famine, is, notwithstanding, cast 
upon the earth and buried in the ground, with a design that it 
may corrupt, and, being corrupted, may revive and multiply; 
our bodies are fed by this constant experiment, and we continue 
the present life by a succession of resurrections. Thus all 
things are prepared by corrupting, are preserved by perishing, 
and revive by dying ; and can we think that man, the lord of 
all these things which thus die and revive for him, should be de- 
tained in death as never to live again ? Is it imaginable that 
God should thus restore all things to man, and not restore man 
to himself? If there were no other consideration but of the 
principles of human nature, of the liberty and remunerability of 



TEE BADDUCEE8. 



231 



human actions, and of the natural revolutions and resurrections 
of other creatures, it were abundantly sufficient to render the 
resurrection of our bodies highly probable." 

All these things might incline to the supposition that the inner 
principle might survive — might live and grow ; that the spirit- 
ual might come forth "like the expanding blade, which breaks 
from the decaying capsule that contained it ; " but who could 
discover any data by which he might reason of the resuscitation 
of the body? The worm that trails in the dust prepares its 
own grave, in which to wait its coming transformation ; and 
when it becomes a released and soaring thing, the tenement it 
leaves is left to perish, being of no more use ; and who could 
tell, when the human body is wrapped in the cerements of the 
tomb, whether it also had not accomplished its end, and would 
be left and lost' in decay? Reason taught the ancients the 
propriety — the necessity — of awarding immortality to the 
spiritual substance of man, but they rejected the idea of the 
resurrection of the body as absurd : their teacher disowned it. 

It was not generally believed when Christ came, if indeed 
there was any proper and rational belief at all. The Sadducees 
believed that the period intervening between birth and death 
was the whole of human existence, and that the exclusive prov- 
ince of religion was to keep all things from relapsing into uni- 
versal chaos — simply, to maintain order. The Pharisees, 
indeed, professed to hold the doctrine of a resurrection, but 
not in such a manner as to escape the condemnation of Jesus. 
It was to be a fundamental doctrine in the system he came to 
establish, and he only brought the true light and the true knowl- 
edge into the world — the only light that was sure for both 
Pharisee and Sadducee, Jew and Gentile, and all others that 
would pass on to the resurrection of the just, in every period 
of time. 

This subject particularly assumes its true dignity and rightful 
proportion only when it is contemplated in the light of the 
Christian revelation. It is one of its peculiar disclosures. 



232 RESURRECTION REVEALED BY JESUS. 



The sages of the heathen world, as we have said, generally 
admitted the immortality of the soul ; but they failed to dis- 
cern, in aught that was presented to them, anything that led 
them to form the most distant conception that bodies would 
ever be reanimated after being subject to decay in the grave. 
Hence the Athenian philosophers declared Paul " a babbler," 
when he stood up to announce the strange truth unto them. All 
their preconceived notions were against so unlikely a result. 
How could it be? The leaven that was "to leaven the whole 
lump " was silently working, and the whole process was to be 
clearly made known by Jesus, who declared himself "the res- 
urrection and the life," and until then the "could be" was to 
be revolved and re-revolved in the mind to no purpose. 

Jesus came with doctrines different from any that were 
then taught, and among them was this same doctrine of the 
resurrection : not that it was unrecognized in the Old Testa- 
ment, but it was wanting in the power and vitality of a prac- 
tical truth, affecting the conduct and lives of men in such 
manner as to draw them more to the future than the present. 
There had been holy men, ages before Christ, who had received 
the Christian doctrines by anticipation, as it were — had ex- 
perienced their power upon the soul ; but when Jesus began 
his mission it was among a people that comprehended not its 
true nature, that appreciated not his character nor his teachings ; 
yet it seems they could not all have been ignorant of the truth. 
As they gathered in temples and synagogues to hear the sacred 
books expounded, to listen to the records of inspired men that 
had penned great and glorious sentences, had they never 
heard of the sublime confidence of Job in his sorrow, that 
led him to break out in the faith-inspired words, " I know that 
my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day 
upon the earth ; and though after my skin worms destroy this 
body, yet in my flesh shall I see God ; whom I shall see for 
myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another"? 

Had the expectations of the Psalmist never been told? "I 



RAISING OT JARIUS DAUGHTER 



JESUS AT THE GRAVE OF LAZARUS. 



233 



shall behold thy face in righteousness ; I shall be satisfied when 
I awake with thy likeness." "My flesh shall rest in hope ; for 
thou wilt not leave my soul in the grave." "I shall dwell in 
the house of the Lord forever." 

Solomon had given expression to the same truth, and Daniel 
had asserted that those who sleep in the dust of the earth 
should awake to receive their merited doom ; but had they 
heard it all, from which portion would they have derived the 
assurance of anything more than the resurrection of the soul ? 
When Job said, "I know" — and David, "I shall be satis- 
fied," they were conscious that there was a mysterious principle 
within that constituted their personality ; that it was capable 
of living and acting independent of that extraneous matter 
they called the body. Death might do its work upon the 
exterior, but this principle must live — must rise from the 
tomb, and still reason and love on forever. 

The ambition of the Psalmist was only limited by the for- 
ever. His soul was to expatiate in the boundless love of the 
Infinite, till this season had run its rounds ; and this was the 
joy of resurrection. But did his fervid soul know it all when 
he uttered these rapt exclamations ? Not unless God had re- 
vealed unto him what was to be, for complete resurrection was 
not manifest until Christ came — rather until he died and rose 
again, becoming " the first fruits of them that slept." 

Jesus taught it to Martha, when he told her, in tones that 
thrilled her very soul, " Thy brother shall rise again ; " but it 
was never published to the world until that blessed day when 
he himself rose from the dead — that memorable time when 
he burst the bands of death, triumphed over it and the grave, 
and appeared, as it were, a pledge of complete resurrection. 

Ah ! that was a blessed revelation the men in " shining gar- 
ments " were permitted to make when they said, "He is not 
here ; he is risen." What unutterable joy it gave the quickly- 
informed disciples to know their Lord had arisen ! But the 
tidings were not only a source of comfort to them, but were 



234 



ANALOGY NOW ASSURANCE. 



to be such to the whole Christian world — to every soul, down 
to the latest time, that should feel any interest in prolonging 
the song of redemption, in living a purer and diviner life. 
Who can describe that morning — the morning of Christ's res- 
urrection ? What hopes were born ! what a light was kindled ! 
It illuminated the grave, and poured cheering radiance over the 
whole destiny of man. The evangelists dwell upon it as a season 
of " great joy." " The Lord is risen," say they, " and shall not 
we arise with him?" Did he not tell us, "Because I live, ye 
shall live also ? " What new meaning appeared in his teach- 
ings ! what beauty, what glory ! The same that was opened 
unto the disciples was shown unto all mankind. 

The associations of the resurrection morning are always 
sacred to the Christian. He passes through death rejoicing in 
it, and goes to the grave exulting that Jesus will open the 
prison doors, and let the captives go free ; that the time is 
coming when he will visit their narrow homes, and marshal 
them in bright array around his throne — a triumphal host, 
under the glorious banner of Immanuel, forever to hail their 
Leader as the "resurrection and the life." 

" Before Christ no one had come from the grave with- 
out again being subject to death ; and, as the first fruits are a 
sample and pledge of the approaching harvest, so our Lord's 
coming from the grave is the earnest of a like ingathering of 
his people. His was both type and guaranty of what shall be 
on the broad scale at their resurrection. His own reappear- 
ance from the tomb was the crowning evidence that he is the 
faithful and true witness, and that each of his promises for the 
future is as sure of accomplishment as those already fulfilled." 

But, more than this, the living, vital union that subsists 
between true believers and their risen Kedeemer warrants the 
hope, yea, the assurance, that they will experience a triumphal 
awaking from the dust ; so that "if we believe that Jesus died 
and rose again, even them also that sleep in Jesus will God 
bring with him." 



WHAT IS RES URREOTION. 



235 



But what is characteristic of resurrection? " By that event," 
says one, " we understand the reproduction, at the last day, of 
the same bodies, formerly occupied, and the reunion of the 
soul of each saint with his own body, thus raised and glorified. 
We understand not a new creation, not the calling into exist- 
ence of a body formed from substances which did not enter 
into the old ; we understand not an indiscriminate occupation 
of tenements supplied at Christ's summons, but the refitting of 
the tabernacle of each believer for the everlasting habitation 
of his own spirit; neither of them was the united whole, 
having lost its identity." 

"It is," says another,, "the putting forth at death of new 
existence, just as the decaying seed puts forth the blade. Its 
decay is necessary in order to release the life and the beauty 
that were imprisoned within its foldings. Death and resurrec- 
tion describe processes, one the inverse of the other, but the 
former helping on the latter, and preparing its triumphant 
way. Our future being is insouled and inurned in our present. 
The spiritual body is included elementally in our present mode 
of existence, with its perceptive powers all ready for their en- 
largement. The soul is not a metaphysical nothing, but a 
heavenly substance and organism, fold within fold. The ma- 
terial falls off, and the spiritual stands forth, and fronts the 
objects and breathes the ether of immortality. The future is 
wrapped up within us, and waiting to be unrolled. 

" Death will not transfer us ; it will only remove a hinderance 
and a veil. We receive with our present being the germ of all 
that we are to become hereafter. The physical comes first in the 
order of development, forming a secure basis for all that is to 
follow, holding it firm, and relaxing its compressure when its 
function is done — c first that which is natural, afterward that 
which is spiritual.' The death of the first is the falling away 
of exuvial matter, when the life of our life becomes manifest, 
and the spiritual body unfolds all its powers ; — it is, essen- 
tially, the immortal man breaking from the carnal investitures 



236 



WHATELTS OPINION. 



of earth, and thence standing upon a higher platform of exist- 
ence, and having open relations therewith." 

Men with speculative minds forge various opinions upon all 
Scripture doctrines ; and so upon this. Like the Athenians in 
the apostles' time, they would know how and why these things 
are so. " How can the dead be raised up, and with what body 
do they come ? " is a question that has been asked in all the 
ages since the doctrine of a resurrection was first revealed to 
man. Is it the same that is laid in the grave ? is the query of 
many. Will the same particles of matter that are deposited 
there be gathered up after decomposition, be reunited and 
become the same body ? According to the discrimination of 
some, the answer is negative, while others see strong proof 
for the opposite belief. 

Says Whately, in his Future State, " Now we know that a 
plant raised from a seed is a very different thing from the seed 
it sprung from, both in form and in size, and in most of its 
properties. The seed itself is completely destroyed as to its 
structure, and, as chemists call it, decomposed ; while the 
young plant is nourished, and its substance formed, chiefly, at 
least, from the earth, the air, and the rains, so that if any of 
the particles of matter which were in the seed remain in the 
plant when fully grown (which is necessarily a matter of un- 
certainty) , they must bear an immensely small proportion to 
the whole. We are not, indeed, authorized to conclude that 
all these circumstances must correspond with what shall take 
place at the resurrection, merely from the use of this illustra- 
tion. But Paul himself calls our attention to this very point : 
'That which thou sowest is not quickened (i. e. made alive), 
except it die.' 

" Here we have him expressly reminding us that a grain of 
corn, when sown, dies ; that is, is dissolved, and its structure 
destroyed, never to be restored ; which is the very illustration 
used by our Lord also, in speaking of the same subject : 
* Verily I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the 



WBATELTS OPINION. 



237 



ground and die, it remaineth alone ; but if it die, it bringeth 
forth much fruit.' We are reminded, also, that it is not a 
plant that is sown, but a seed ; and that we raise from it, not 
the same thing that was sown, but a plant which is very dif- 
ferent. f Thou so west not that body which shall be, but bare 
grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other grain ; but 
God giveth it a body, as it hath pleased him, and to every 
seed its own body.' 

" Let it be remembered, that even for a body to be the same, it 
is not at all necessary that it should consist of the same particles 
of matter. Our bodies, we know, are undergoing during life 
a constant change of substance, from continual waste and con- 
tinual renewal ; and anatomists, who have carefully studied 
the structure of the human frame, have proved that this per- 
petual change — this system of constant loss and supply — 
extends even to the most solid parts of the body, the bones, 
which, as well as the rest, are gradually worn away and 
repaired, so that there is every reason to conclude that all the 
particles of matter which compose our bodies are changed sev- 
eral times during our life ; and that no one living body has 
any particle of the same substance now remaining in it which 
it had several years ago. 

" Why, then, should it be supposed that the same identical 
particles of matter, which belonged to any one's body at his 
death, must be brought together at his resurrection in order to 
make the same body; when, even during his lifetime, the 
same particles did not remain, but were changed many times 
over? 

"It seems clear enough," says he, "that a man's body is 
called his from its union with his soul, and the mutual in- 
fluence of the one on the other ; so that, if at the resurrection 
we are clothed with bodies which we, in this way, perceive to 
belong to us, and to be ours, it signifies nothing of what parti- 
cles of bodily substance they are composed." 



238 



THOMPSON'S OPINION. 



Says Thompson, in his chapter on the "resurrection body," 
" The same will be raised. Without wasting time in disquisi- 
tion upon what constitutes identity, or upon the changes which 
every living creature constantly undergoes, suffice it to say, 
that, notwithstanding all its mutations, the same body which is 
born is the same body which dies, and the one which dies is 
that which will be raised again. It would be deemed irrelevant, 
in this connection, to discuss abstruse questions relating to 
substances, atoms, and the like : all that is important, or possi- 
ble to know, is, that whatever may be essential to identity will 
be preserved ; so that it is proper to affirm now, and will then 
be evidently true, that the body which died is the one which will 
be raised. The translation of Enoch and Elijah, the resurrec- 
tion and ascension of our Lord, the testimony that they which 
sleep in their graves shall come forth, indeed all testimony of 
Holy Writ upon this point, establishes the truth that the body 
raised is identical with that from which separation took place. 
The changes that occur at regeneration, departure from the 
body, and reunion to the same after having been in Paradise, 
do not affect the identity of the soul ; nor do the revolutions 
effected by growth, dissolution, and resurrection, destroy the 
identity of the body ; nor do all these combined impair the 
identity of the person, when these two elements of his constitu- 
tion shall have been reunited. Abraham will be forever con- 
scious to himself, and known to his family as the same Abraham 
who bought the field of Ephron, and the cave which was there- 
in ; the precious dust first deposited there shall come forth, his 
own beloved Sarah. Samuel J. Mills was not buried irrecover- 
ably, nor has any believer been lost in the ocean. The sea 
shall ere long give up its dead unharmed. Each saint in 
Christ Jesus may say, — 

4 In ocean cave still safe with thee, 
The germ of immortality ; 
And calm and peaceful is my sleep, 
Eocked in the cradle of the deep.' " 



SCBIPTURAL REPRESENTATION. 



239 



The sacred writers have not seen fit to furnish means for the 
gratification of all curiosity, and in this, as in other instances, 
man has sought to unclasp and unseal, that, if possible, he might 
discover the precise data, and himself look into the profound 
mysteries of the Eternal. 

Giving their own coloring, their own form to the glasses 
through which they look, some observe one phase and some 
another; one beholds, as he thinks, evidence that things will 
move in a certain direction, while another reasons upon the 
probability of an opposite course. Both may be honest and 
sincere in their views, and their expression of them ; both may 
think they have Scripture to support their ideas ; but none can 
know, until the archangel's trump shall sound, the precise man- 
ner of the divine conduct in this respect. It was not necessary 
that mortals should know definitely the method of procedure in 
any of God's plans. Is it not enough to know that what is com- 
mitted to the grave "in corruption " is raised "in incorruption," 
no more subject to the influences of decay, no more liable to 
disease and death, but to flourish in immortal youth, and forever 
to enjoy its life, vigor, and freshness, with no withering, no 
blight ? Is it not enough that what is " sown in weakness " is 
"raised in power," to remain, in all the future, incapable of ex- 
haustion, fitted in the highest sense to accompany the mind in 
its loftiest flights and most vigorous activities? Can we not 
rest with the assurance that what is " sown in dishonor is raised 
in glory," destined to shine in a splendor similar to that which 
surrounded the Lord when "his face did shine as the sun, and 
his raiment became white and glistering " ? 

But if with all this we are not satisfied, can we fail to be, 
when we consider that it is expressly said that the " natural 
body " shall be raised a " spiritual body " ? Dick defined the 
latter thus : as " refined to the highest pitch of which matter is 
susceptible, capable of the most vigorous exertions and of the 
swiftest movements, endued with organs of perception of a more 
exquisite and sublime nature than those with which it is now 



240 



REVELATION ONLY PARTIAL. 



furnished, and fitted to act as a suitable vehicle for the soul in 
all its celestial services and sublime investigations," but we can 
only conjecture what the character of its constitution may be, or 
what its particular properties and endowments. We have, 
as it were, the outline of a landscape, while all which goes to 
make it up is not given. The rocks, hills, trees, flowers, mead- 
ows, and valleys are all appropriate objects of the same, but it 
is the final grouping together of the whole that demands our 
attention, and calls forth our interest and admiration ; so, if 
we cannot gaze upon everything that goes to make up the sub- 
lime doctrine of resurrection, we know it is a glorious truth — 
a sun in the gospel system, and we may rejoice in the con- 
centrated glory of the same. Because our chemistry will not 
allow us to analyze every beam that emanates from this source, 
which is better, to consider it at fault, or to conclude that these 
beams are a very strange and questionable sort of things ? In a 
certain place we are told of a company who were careful to use 
the present life, to improve their discipline upon earth, so as to 
"obtain a better resurrection ; " and if, like them, we make it a 
practical matter, and make all things subservient to the highest 
end of life, then will all things open upon us in such a way as 
to fully satisfy the earnest, inquiring soul, remove all doubt, 
dimness, and anxiety, and substitute a blessed experience of 
joy. There is no more merciful provision in this world 
than this — that the scroll of our destiny is unrolled little by 
little. If the whole were displayed at once, we should be 
overwhelmed, unfitted entirely for our trials in the future. 
It is better that we study out our life-chapters in syllables, for 
the effort makes us better students in the school where we are 
placed. God has deemed it wise to withhold revelations of 
particulars from every soul, though men are eager to see and 
know. We may theorize about infinitesimal particles of mat- 
ter, and about "millionth parts," that are to be raised up ; but 
after all, it will be none the less, nor will it be more, for all 
these speculations. The highest point in the scale of certainty 



S ADDUCE AN NOTIONS. 



241 



that we can reach is that of perhaps. We say nothing against 
the theories of learned men. We respect them. It may be 
as they assert, and it may not. This much we may do : we 
may lie down as the good Bishop of London did, leaving for 
his epitaph the words, "I shall rise again." 

That there will be a change, unlike any we have ever expe- 
rienced before, is evident ; that to the believer it will be a 
blessed change, is also evident. There is to be a reversion, as 
we* have- said ; "power "will take the place of " weakness," 
"glory" of "dishonor," and spiritual will supplant the natural. 
Hence we often hear of Christians departing from this life in 
" sure and certain hope of a blessed resurrection." 

The nature of it they are not to know until they enter upon 
it ; the peculiarity of any state cannot be appreciated until it 
becomes a present reality to the spirit, appealing to its con- 
sciousness and experience. 

The Sadducees sought to know the nature of this change when 
they went to Christ with what they idly deemed perplexing 
questions concerning it. All their conceptions of Messiah's 
kingdom, and all their ideas of futurity, were modified by their 
carnal notions. If the body were to be raised, then, they 
thought, all the carnal relations would also be restored ; that 
if successive claims were acknowledged in this life, who would 
give the priority to these in another ? If seven different times 
the woman had wedded, and as many times she had seen the 
relation dissolved by death, "in the resurrection," say they, 
" whose wife will she be of the seven ? " Said the Saviour, 
"Do ye not err yourselves, because ye know not the Scrip- 
tures, neither the power of God? For when they shall rise 
from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, 
but are as the angels which are in heaven." 

Is not this enough of its nature ? Can we not be content 
with this knowledge, with these anticipations, until we come 
to the " general assembly," and are fully initiated into the 
"secret things"? 

16 



242 



CHRIST GIVES ASSURANCE. 



The lucid morning of Christ's resurrection has insured a 
glorious morning to all believers, before which all darkness 
and gloom shall flee away. A day of unclouded brightness 
shall follow, and they shall bask in the sunshine of eternal 
love forever, for upon this day the sun shall never set. It will 
never merge into twilight, nor twilight into night ; and the 
saints shall continually exult in the power of an endless but 
active life. The power, beauty, and glory of the resurrection 
body may be considered in a future chapter ; we therefore defer 
the consideration of this for the present. 

We may not fully know here of the elements and properties 
of that body, or understand perfectly the full significance of 
rising again ; but we may, and should, take God's assured 
word, that whatever he provides for his faithful ones in the 
future will be for their highest conceivable happiness, though 
the matter and the manner be such as have not " entered into 
the heart of man." 

We may, and should, yield ourselves to the guidance of 
heavenly wisdom, following where it leads, and then our path 
may be like that of the just " which shineth more and more 
unto the perfect day ; " we may reach heights from which we 
may discover glorious views ; we may see sights never beheld 
while upon a lower plane. 

Christ hath risen and ascended ; he stands on high ; and the 
higher we rise, the nearer we are to him. Thither our hopes 
and aspirations tend, and there our hopes and affections should 
centre. He who is "the resurrection and the life," is all and 
in all to the penitent soul. Multitudes of all people and kin- 
dred, all nations and tongues, have gone downward to the 
grave, and upward to the skies, singing triumphantly as they 
went, because of the richness of that glory that attends the 
renewal and revival of the best and holiest in God's creation. 
The Christian may exult in the prospect of a nobler, purer life 
for all that is good and saintly. O, blessed morning of resur- 
rection, that shall arise upon a perfect, a sinless world. 



GLORY OF TEE RESURRECTION. 



243 



Surely it might be said of these things, after all attempts to 
fathom the ocean of blessedness that lies but just before, it 
is "above all knowledge," it "passeth understanding." 

" Ye faithful souls, who Jesus know, 
If risen indeed with him ye are, 
Superior to the joys below, 
His resurrection's power declare. 

" Your real life, with Christ concealed, 
Deep in the Father's bosom lies, 
And glorious, as your Head revealed, 
Ye soon shall meet him in the skies." 

And what this may be we give in the beautiful words of 
Chrysostom : — 

"If a man has a statue decayed by rust and age, and muti- 
lated in many of its parts, he breaks it up and casts it into a 
furnace, and, after the melting, he receives it again in more 
beautiful form. As thus the dissolving in the furnace was not 
a destruction, but a renewing of the statue, so the death of our 
bodies is not a destruction, but a renovation. When, therefore, 
you see as in a furnace, your flesh flowing away to corruption, 
dwell not on that sight, but wait for the recasting. And ad- 
vance in your thoughts to a still higher point — for the statuary 
casting into the furnace a brazen image, only makes a brazen 
one again. God does not thus ; but, casting in a mortal body, 
formed of clay, he returns you an immortal statue of gold." 

There is a richness in all God's works, as will be clearly 
manifest "in that day" when he makes up his "jewels ;" then 
will appear models of beauty, before which the proudest monu- 
ments of human art will grow dim and seem worthless. The 
gems which he has polished will sparkle in his coronet with a 
brilliancy transcending all earthly brightness, and all things 
will shine with his own imparted lustre. 

" Sun of the resurrection ! which shall burst 
In vivid splendor on the grave's long night, 
Hopes of thy coming, by devotion nursed, 

Fill the lorn heart with unalloyed delight ; 
'Tis thy young twilight, with mysterious gleam, 
That dawns so freshly on life's fevered dream ! " 



244 



TEE SOUL OF INFINITE MOMENT, 



CHAPTEE XV. 

THE INTERMEDIATE STATE. 

The Soul of infinite Moment. — Votaries of Science. — Dijing Thief — 
Moses and Elias on the Mount. — Premonitions of Conscience. — Joys of 
Believers. — Early Church History. — -Opinion of primitive Fathers. — 
Hades. — Pneumatology of Paul. — Views of Whately. 

" None should think that souls are immediately judged after death ; for they 
are all detained in one common custody, till the time shall come when the 
greatest Judge shall examine their respective merits." — Lactantius. 

" One moment — and we breathe within the Evermore." — Anon. 

When thoroughly convinced of immortality, how earnestly 
does the spirit of man cry out, " Show me my home as it yet 
may be ! " How it lingers around the threshold of the unre- 
vealed, eager to catch the faintest indications of the may he, 
if nothing more certain is offered ! And surely there is nothing 
of greater interest — nothing that more deeply concerns it. 
There is nothing in all creation of so much moment to us as 
our immortal souls. God's works, as displayed in creation, 
are indeed very beautiful and very wonderful ; but ever, as 
we are engaged in the admiring contemplation of these, we 
hear a voice within us, saying, These things shall pass 
away, and I shall live to see them. I shall survive "the 
wreck of matter and the crush of worlds ; " therefore bestow 
thy care and thy devotion upon me, for as far as the spiritual 
exceeds the natural, so far do I transcend in beauty and excel- 
lence all that thine eyes behold in the material universe. We 
ourselves pay this involuntary tribute to the immortal principle 
within us. We cannot be so engrossed in externals as to hush 



VOTARIES OF SCIENCE. 



245 



these inner tones, as to drown the solemn voice that bids us 
take heed for the future. The would-be exclusive devotees of 
science, art, and nature have often been interrupted in their 
pursuits by significant questions concerning the end. They 
have been startled by the idea of realities besides those they were 
endeavoring to establish ; they have found them appealing to 
their inner souls with the resistless power of living truth. 
" What shall be the end thereof? " was a question propounded 
to one, the energies of whose being were given to the consid- 
eration of the present, and to the accumulation of what it 
offers. "I shall have the satisfaction of enjoying the reward 
of my labors," said he, "in ease and luxurious quiet." "And 
what shall succeed that?" was asked. Silence ensued for a 
time ; but the reluctant confession was w T rung out at last, " As 
it seems the lot of all to die, I suppose I must share in the 
general mortality." "And what then? " was again urged ; but 
the proud man was dumb. Christians know that death will 
come, and put an end to their connection with all material 
things ; and while engaged in the use and enjoyment of the 
temporal, as God designed they should be, they yet have an eye 
constantly upon the spiritual, and only value the former as it 
subserves the interests of the latter. Natural science has a 
peculiar charm for them, for in it they are ever discovering new 
traces of the divine wisdom and goodness, and they feel that 
they are commencing a study which they are to resume in eter- 
nity at infinitely greater advantage ; but when they come with 
the query, Shall we resume our studies the moment after death ? 
then must they expect silence, for all things are dumb on this 
point, or at least give no positive assurance. 

Nature opens delightful fields of thought to every one ; but 
there is this difference between the sanctified and unsanctified 
pupil : the one does all things and seeks all things with ref- 
erence to the end ; the other keeps that end out of sight as 
much as possible, thus defeating the object of the great Teacher. 
All things are not revealed to the faithful students ; but they 



246 



TEE VEIL NOT ALL LIFTED. 



are to be, and it does not particularly concern them at what 
precise moment the revelation shall take place. The redeemed 
soul will be studying into the principles of the divine economy 
while the cycles of eternity roll round, and there will be no 
point in its remotest history when there will not be limitless 
subjects for its contemplation ; but the entire character of those 
subjects, and the manner of their presentation, may not be fully 
known to us now, nor is it necessary that they should be. 

We may prepare for admission into some institution of learn- 
ing, and imagine the system by which it is governed, what we 
may hope for from its peculiar administration, and what our 
conduct will be, with such influences bearing upon it ; but 
we can never know the effect of the whole combination 
until we are brought into its direct sphere, and find the various 
elements incorporated in our own experience. So we may con- 
jecture with regard to the future ; but we may never perfectly 
know until the veil is removed, and we behold with spirit eyes 
the peculiarity of our destiny ; until we actually become pupils 
of that great and divine institution — the school of the world 
to come. 

With our inquiring minds, our fertile powers of imagina- 
tion, there is a strong inclination of our being to penetrate into 
the unknown. 

There is a sense in which we may and should seek to know 
the unknown ; but we should tread cautiously on hallowed 
ground — that portion which the Lord has purposely kept for 
himself. 

God's Word nowhere expressly asserts what is the state of 
the soul during the interval that passes between the first arrival 
in the spirit world and the final resurrection. What that state 
is which immediately succeeds the dissolution of the body, we 
cannot tell. We are conscious that, after all attempts to settle 
this question, we must leave it where we found it. Yet when 
Y?e hear Christ saying to the penitent thief upon the cross, 
K To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise," we cannot for- 



TEE DYING THIEF. 247 

bear the conclusion that "the welcome is sounded in another 
world ere the farewell is hushed in this." It comes to us as 
an indication that the departed spirit finds itself at once with 
the Lord, in the exercise of its powers — loving and praising. 
When the prayer came from the lips of the dying thief, " Lord, 
remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom," the 
answer conveyed, not the assurance of a far-off remembrance ; 
not the promise that in the day of final resurrection he would 
awake him from his long sleep, and bring him, with others, to 
his right hand, though this might have been the rejoicing 
sound of infinite mercy to the repentant one ; but it said, in 
no doubtful terms, "To-day" thou shalt realize even more than 
thou hast asked. 

Was this an exceptional case ? Was the " thief " — whose 
repentance in the hour of death secured for him everlasting 
life — was he to enter upon the immediate enjoyment of his 
Lord, while thousands of believing, faithful ones, whose lives 
have been consecrated to the divine service, are condemned to 
lie in the shades of unconsciousness for ages ? Yet there are 
those who affirm that this is the state of all the dead until the 
judgment. 

What mean the dying glimpses of believers — those ear- 
nests that betoken a speedy realization, if these things be so? 
We have reason to believe that Christ is never nearer his 
people than in the hour of death ; and we would fain believe 
that what he then shows them is no delusion. Whence those 
rapturous views of Jesus, of angels and departed friends, that 
come as so many blessed comforters to make the last journey 
pleasant ? They are often spoken of by the dying as foretastes 
of heavenly bliss — as a prelude to the more perfect joy that 
seems but just before them. The martyr Stephen, in his last 
moments, saw " the heavens opened, and the Son of Man stand- 
ing on the right hand of God." He recognized his Redeemer, 
and sought mercy for his murderers ; and was this a momentary 
recognition, that was to be followed by ages of forgetfulness ? 



248 



VISION OF DYING BELIEVERS. 



Some affirm that the spirit remains unconscious until the 
resurrection, and that then, awaking out of sleep, the transi- 
tion will seem but momentary ;. that the intervening time is not 
as lost links in the chain of being, but that the connection is 
perfect between the last moment of consciousness on earth and 
that renewed at the final day. At the first glance of such an 
opinion, the question comes unbidden, " Why this waste of 
ages, when the mighty throng might be continually chant- 
ing praises to the Eternal ; when the redeemed host might 
be flying on seraph wings to fulfil the high behests of 
their heavenly King ? They say that this earth is to be puri- 
fied, to be fitted up for the abode of the ransomed ones, and 
that when this is done, they will arise from the place where they 
repose, and in a triumphal procession enter and take possession 
of their new home — coming "with songs and everlasting joy," 
since the " days of their mourning are ended ; " and none can 
dispute their title to the new-found mansions, reared by the 
divine Builder of heaven and earth. We raise no question here 
upon the plausibility of this supposition ; but is not " the Lord's 
throne prepared in the heavens," and are not angels round 
about that throne, and is there not something said of others 
who cast their crowns there, singing, "Blessing and honor, 
and glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, 
and unto the Lamb, forever and ever"? 

How many we have seen depart this life with the confident 
expectation that when they closed their eyes upon transitory 
things, they should open them upon the undimmed brightness 
of the celestial state. Have all these been united in a mis- 
take? Have not they been taught of God, and is he not 
faithful and true in his teaching, raising no hopes but those he 
will satisfy, kindling no expectations merely for the purpose of 
disappointment? Why these longings which Christians so 
often express to be with Christ, if they are to have no intelli- 
gent apprehension or enjoyment of him, until all that are on 
earth, and all that are yet to be, have finished their work, and 
can come together around the judgment throne ? 



MOSES AND ELI AS ON THE MOUNT. 



249 



Paul desired that he might be released, because he would be 
with Christ. By the eye of faith he discovered a crown in 
waiting for him , and it seems he thought not of the lapse of ages 
before he should receive it, but rather that he should soon pass 
into the joy of his Lord — that when Death should lead him 
away from the scenes of time, he would be greeted by the 
sight of another and peaceful abode, where trouble and sor- 
row are known no more ; and where he could render purer 
service and holier homage than ever below. Were Moses 
and Elias summoned from their long sleep to appear on the 
Mount of Transfiguration, and when they retired from it, 
was it to return to a repose that was to remain unbroken 
until the day of final consummation? We cannot tell with 
absolute certainty ; but there is a strong probability that it 
was not so. 

In speaking of the intermediate state, however, we confine 
ourselves mainly to the views and opinions of those who have 
written on the subject ; and those who feel interested in the con- 
sideration of the matter can take the evidence as it stands, and 
decide according to their own convictions of truth. It is an 
idea associated rather with the church than with the Scriptures. 
Revelation has left it undecided, and for the wisest of reasons. 
It tells us that " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ; " 
and since that blessedness is attainable, may be held in ever- 
lasting possession, why should any vex themselves with the 
question whether there be any intermediate state or not ? The 
soul once intrusted to the Great Shepherd, he will lead and 
guide safely through whatever it has to pass before it reaches 
the green pastures and perennial streams of the "better 
land." 

The question of consciousness or unconsciousness, however, 
must be a matter of the most profound interest to every rational 
being. When this is presented, it cannot fail to challenge in- 
vestigation, for the idea of remaining in silence and darkness 
for an indefinite period of time, incapable of the exercise of 



250 



PREMONITIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 



any faculty, is, especially to one breathing after God and holi- 
ness, after perfection of being and worship, a most unwelcome 
thought. But all our speculations upon the subject, from any 
point of view, are of no practical necessity. "As the tree falls, 
so it lies." As death finds us, so will the judgment. It is per- 
fectly clear that the present life is the only place to work out our 
salvation ; it is the only season of trial, of discipline, and prepa- 
ration for a happy and blessed immortality. Beyond the grave 
there is no change of condition. Whatever the intermediate 
place may be, if there be any at all, it is evident it affords no 
ground of hope to those who reject the offers of life here. 
" There are no acts of pardon passed " there. 

As Christians have departed this mortal life in holy exulta- 
tion and triumph, so shrinking, unforgiven souls have passed 
away with the equally terrible conviction that their approaching 
fearful doom was one of awful certainty. Could they see the 
least gleam of hope, that after ages of suffering their sins would 
be expiated, and in some measure their sentence lightened, then 
the crushing load upon their spirits might be lifted, to relieve 
them from the overwhelming pressure. 

Such has been the confession of many a man whose life had 
been a continued scene of daring impiety. They have ex- 
perienced a fearful meaning in the truth that " coming events 
cast their shadows before ; " for all the fearfulness of swift 
retribution has settled down upon their last hours. 

In ages of darkness and superstition, such as the world has 
seen, the doctrine of an intermediate state was a different thing. 
Then everything degenerated into forms to meet the natural 
bias of depraved hearts. Life might be filled up with iniquity 
and self-indulgence, but a sufficient modicum of current coin 
was considered an ample inducement for a given number of 
prayers, and these prayers were to release their imprisoned souls, 
and give them entrance into a larger and more desirable place. 
Convents were founded for this very purpose — for the sole 
intent of helping on the dead ; and petitions to this end were 



DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY. 251 

i 

constantly on hand, provided the moneyed perquisite was 
advanced to produce the needed inspiration. In close conjunc- 
tion with prayers for the dead was praying to the dead. Be- 
lieving that they were detained in a mediate state for the puri- 
fication of their souls by suffering, from which they might be 
delivered by the prayers of surviving friends, there was also con- 
ceived the idea of reciprocal interest, by which the living were 
induced to solicit the departed to intercede with God for those 
on earth. Millions flowed into the coffers of the church for 
these intercessory offices ; the key of the shaded realm was given 
into the hands of a selfish, designing priesthood, and the whole 
matter of salvation became a matter of sordid and debasing 
avarice. The whole doctrine of purgatory, it has been said, 
was shaped from the doctrine of a mediate place, as held by the 
primitive church, " a gathering place for souls," previous and 
preparatory to some other change which awaited them, and 
that the Greek and Romish church received these traditions, 
upon which they built up a system to suit their own ideas of 
prominence and power. 

Whether this was the origin of their unhallowed system, or 
not, we cannot say, but it is evident the attention of the church 
at a very early period was directed to this subject ; and since 
light in the beginning of centuries was not so transparently 
clear as now, it would not be strange if some of their notions 
appear dim and confused to us, or that they really were so. 
The unanimous sentiment among the early Christians seems 
to have been, that the soul was detained somewhere, for a 
time, between death and the final resurrection. According to 
history, though controversies were waged upon almost every 
other subject, upon this they were all united. Xobody called 
it in question. " Into a mediate place all men passed alike at 
death, and there awaited the issues of the final judgment. 
There all the patriarchs and prophets were. Thither all the 
nations, Jewish and heathen, had alike gone. They were not 
all in the same condition in respect to happiness or suffering, 
but they awaited there the ultimate bliss or the ultimate woe." 



252 



OPINIONS OF TEE FATHERS. 



" All the generations from Adam to this day," says Clem- 
ent, " are past and gone ; but they that have finished their 
course in Christ possess the region of the godly, who shall be 
manifested in the visitation of the kingdom of Christ." Justin 
Martyr considers the idea as savoring of Gnosticism ; that the 
spirit is received immediately after death into the heavenly 
kingdom, without any detention in a preliminary state. Xrenaeus 
observes that our Saviour himself was mindful of this law, by 
staying three days in the place of the dead. "Whereas, then, 
our Lord went," he says, "into the midst of the shadow of 
death, where the souls of deceased persons abode, and then 
afterward rose again in the body, and was, after his resurrec- 
tion, taken up into heaven, it is plain that the souls of his 
disciples, for whose sake the Lord did these things, shall go 
likewise to that invisible place appointed to them by God, and 
there abide till the resurrection, waiting for the time thereof ; 
and afterward receiving their bodies, and rising again perfectly, 
— that is, in their bodies, — as our Lord did, shall so come 
to the sight of God." 

Tertullian, Novatian, and Jerome advance similar sentiments, 
and Augustin declares that " the time which is interposed between 
a man's death and the last resurrection containeth souls in 
hidden receptacles, according as every one is worthy of rest 
or labor." 

The liturgies of the primitive church, however, are considered 
as more plainly indicative of the prevalent opinion than simple 
individual expression ; and we transcribe the form of one or two 
from the collection of Dr. Brett, an able and learned writer, who 
has been interested to trace these things back to the days of the 
primitive fathers and the early church. 

St. Basil's Liturgy, as it is called, used in the Constantino- 
politan and also the Alexandrian church, is upon this wise : 
"Remember all who are before gone to sleep, in hope of the 
resurrection to eternal life, and give them rest, O Lord, where 
the light of thy countenance shines upon them." 



HEBREW NOTIONS. 



253 



"Vouchsafe to remember, O Lord, those who have pleased 
thee from the beginning of the world, the holy fathers, patri- 
archs, apostles, prophets, preachers, evangelists, martyrs, con- 
fessors, and every just spirit departed in the faith of Christ. 
Give rest to all their souls, on the bosoms of our holy fathers, 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Lead them, and put them into a 
green place upon the waters of rest, in the paradise of pleas- 
ure, where there is no grief, or sadness, or groaning in the 
light of thy holy saints. Give rest, O Lord, in that place, to 
the souls of them whom thou hast taken to thyself, and vouch- 
safe to translate them to thy heavenly kingdom." 

That of Chrysostom and others recognizes the unconscious 
state as succeeding death ; but to go farther back still, to the 
early history of the Hebrews, we find the same indefinite ideas 
of death and what follows. "They believed in human immor- 
tality, and that Hades was the common receptacle of all de- 
parted souls. But of man's condition in Hades they conceived 
nothing more than that it was one of comparative weakness 
and shadowy repose. It was the region of the phantom 
nations, into which all passed alike at death. Kings reigned 
there, but on unsubstantial thrones ; " and all was doubtful and 
confused. God and his angels they placed in some imaginary 
abode above the sky ; and there these high intelligences were to 
remain, above and beyond the shadowy realm which contained 
all spirits which had left the sphere of mortal life. 

In process of time, however, under the partial enlighten- 
ment which came from the teachings of the Rabbins, some- 
thing more tangible began to be associated with the spirit- 
abode of man. Instead of assigning all promiscuously to 
Hades, they divided the same into compartments, that thereby 
a line might be drawn between the good and the evil, or the 
righteous and the wicked ; thus furnishing to those who appre- 
ciated goodness the opportunity of having exclusively congenial 
society in their exile from the goodly land, which had been 
typified in the richly-laden country of Canaan. The division 



254 



GREEK AND ROMAN VIEWS. 



consisted of three apartments, the upper one a place of com- 
parative rest and happiness, consecrated to the good, and open 
for the reception of such in all ages. Thither the patriarchs 
and prophets had gone ; and there kindred spirits in all ages, 
down to the end of time, were to gather, forming one vast as- 
sembly, — forever filling the mighty space, and yet never full. 
This was called the Lower Paradise, and was to maintain its 
peculiarity of condition and law, until from the regions above 
should go forth a voice, echoing through all the apartments, 
saying, " Come to judgment. " Below this was another place — 
the abode of the wicked — one of comparative darkness and 
gloom, to which were consigned all heathen and rebellious 
nations, and all such as had no sympathy with the virtuous 
ranks above them. Though wanting in pleasantness and com- 
fort, and the delightful features of the holier state, it yet was 
not the culmination of suffering or punishment. This was re- 
served for the final day — a day of retribution for all — the 
evil and the good. Still lower, down, down, was the terrible 
Gehenna, with its fearful flames and scathing woe ; but the 
power of both was to be forever unknown until the last sen- 
tence of the last day should be pronounced upon the incorrigi- 
ble children of men, who had resisted all appeals to goodness 
in the land of the living. 

Josephus supposes this opinion to have passed from the 
Hebrews to other people, where it became so much disfigured 
by various fictions and inventions as to present quite a dif- 
ferent phase in their history. "The notion," he says, "was 
variously embellished by the Greek poets ; and afterward, 
being stripped by Plato of much of its poetic ornament, was 
embodied in his philosophical system. Hence, again, the 
Latins, and nations at large, derived their phraseology in 
speaking of the state of the dead." 

The entire region assigned to the spirits of the departed was 
called by the Jews jSheol, by the Latins Inferi, and by the 
Greeks Hades. For a more particular description of this 



OF HADES. 



255 



latter, and perhaps most popular idea of the ancients, we tran- 
scribe from this same historian. Some had given it a position 
under the world, not knowing where to locate so doubtful a 
thing; but when Josephus comes to its consideration, he says 
Hades is a place in the world not regularly finished — a sub- 
terranean region, it may be, where the sunlight never enters. 
" This region is allotted as a place for soul-custody, in which 
angels are appointed as guardians, to distribute temporary pun- 
ishment, according to the behavior and manner of each. In 
this region there is a certain place set apart, as a lake of un- 
quenchable fire, whereinto, we suppose, no one hath hitherto 
been cast ; but it is prepared for a day afore-determined by 
God, in which the righteous sentence shall deservedly be passed 
upon all men ; when the unjust, and disobedient to God, shall 
be adjudged to this everlasting punishment, while the just shall 
obtain an incorruptible and never-failing kingdom. These are 
now, indeed, confined in Hades, but not in the same place 
wherein the unjust are confined ; for there is one descent into 
this region, at whose gate we believe there stands an archangel 
with a host; which gate, when those pass through that are 
conducted down by the angels appointed over souls, they do 
not enter the same way, but the just are guided to the right 
hand, and are led, with hymns sung by the angels appointed 
over that place, into a region of light, in which angels have 
dwelt from the beginning of the world. This place we call 
the bosom of Abraham. 

" But as to the unjust, they are dragged by force to the left 
hand by the angels allotted for punishment ; no longer going 
with a good will, but as prisoners driven by violence. Between 
them is fixed a chaos deep and large, insomuch that a just man, 
that hath compassion upon them, cannot be admitted, nor can 
one that is unjust, if he were bold enough to attempt it, pass 
over it. In this Hades the souls of all men are confined until 
a proper season, which God hath determined, when he will 
make a resurrection of all men from the dead ; not procuring 



256 



PAUL'S VIEWS. 



a transmigration of souls from one body to another, but raising 
again those very bodies, which you Greeks, seeing to be dis- 
solved, do not believe. " "But learn not to disbelieve it," 
continues he, "for while you believe that the soul is created, 
and yet is made immortal by God, according to the doctrine of 
Plato, and this in time, be not incredulous, but believe that 
God is able, when he hath raised to life that body which was 
made as a compound of the same element, to make it immortal ; 
for it must never be said of God that he is able to do some 
things, and unable to do others." 

Thus it appears that the most learned of the ancient histo- 
rians, though firmly anchored on God's power, were neverthe- 
less floating on some loose planks ; and those to whom the 
pages of revelation have been opened have no particular 
guiding star, whose unerring light shall point to the certain 
harbor into which the departed enter. 

The Pharisees in the days of Christ believed in the re-incar- 
nation, the entering into the same bodies which had been 
vacated at dissolution, which were eventually to become im- 
mortal, not yet comprehending the spiritual and glorified body 
which Christ by his incarnation and death was to secure, — 
not yet understanding the " new and living way," by which 
admittance to the heavenly kingdom was to be gained. 

As Paul's spirit hovered between the two worlds, he con- 
ceived that to be " absent from the body " was to be " present 
with the Lord." As his probation was about to close, his eye 
of faith penetrated the unseen, and beheld the pure and spir- 
itual joys of the church triumphant ; and his soul hasted to 
join the " innumerable company " that was so divinely employed. 
He had been brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, and instructed 
in the history, literature, and philosophy of his times ; he had 
imbibed the spirit of his age, and become thoroughly indoc- 
trinated in all matters of J ewish theology — in the resurrection 
and what should follow. When he came to be a disciple of a 
better religion, he found it inculcated a new spirit, and brought 



PNEUMATOLOGY OF PAUL. 



257 



new ideas ; and firmly convinced of the superiority of the one 
over the other, the one he abrogated, and the other retained 
and cherished ; so that Paul the Jew and Paul the Christian 
are different authorities. Prom him, in the latter character, 
there is no appeal. He is inspired to declare the counsel of 
God, and whatever he asserts of life or death, of present or 
future, we may receive as unquestionably true. 

A certain writer, in speaking of the " pneumatology of 
Paul," declares that, "in the fervency of his faith, the apostle 
evidently expected that the time would come, and was even 
close at hand, when Christian believers, while yet in the flesh, 
would become so completely regenerated, redeemed, and glo- 
rified, as to render no longer necessary any descent into a 
mediate world. Their change, while yet on earth, would be 
so complete, that their translation to heaven would be imme- 
diate and instantaneous, when they were done with time." 

But why the necessity for a " mediate state " ? There is no 
repentance there, no change, no possibility of commencing a 
new life, and preparing for the better condition of the blest. 
If so, the most wicked and abandoned might have hope in 
death ; might have something to soothe those wretched fears, 
which always haunt them when they see the present losing 
itself in the future. If souls are not regenerated here, where 
is the slightest evidence that they will ever be ? Intelligent 
readers of the Bible find nothing there to convince them that 
they will ever, that they can ever, have any part in the song of 
redemption in a future world, unless they have had their hearts 
and voices tuned in this ; unless they have learned the notes, 
and know somewhat of the nature of the heavenly anthem. 

There is such a thing now with believers as " fervency of 
faith ; " such as wafts the melodies of the celestial sphere to 
their inmost souls, making them almost impatient to join the 
holy choir, that forever they may be within the sound of such 
enrapturing music. These are kindred spirits with Paul, and 
it is evidently the common belief of all such, that, " when done 
17 



258 



VIEWS OF WHATELY. 



with time," they shall find immediate entrance into heaven ; 
that, when they close their eyes upon the fading and transitory, 
they shall open them upon the unfading and eternal. 

There are those, however, who entertain opposite views, as 
we have seen. Whately thinks a change to take place between 
death and the resurrection, since we see the mouldering body 
become resolved into its original dust, and at the final day we 
shall again have bodies. He also plainly declares that we 
cannot comprehend the state, since the Scriptures have not 
revealed it ; but that there are arguments which may be 
adduced in support of its being a state of enjoyment and 
suffering, according to character, and of its being one of 
perfect insensibility and unconsciousness, either of which 
opinion may be safely entertained without failing in any part 
of faith which it is essential for a Christian to hold. 

The rich man and Lazarus, Moses and Elias on the mount, 
the thief upon the cross, whom the advocates of the former 
opinion have been wont to consider as furnishing strong inti- 
mations in favor of their position, he groups together under 
a merely figurative cloak. In sustaining the last idea — that 
of unconsciousness — he lays peculiar stress upon the manner 
in which the sacred writers speak of the dead as being w asleep." 
But is there nothing figurative in this ? " Balmy sleep " is 
associated with rest in this mortal life, and it is with some 
such feelings that we see Christians retire to their last, long 
rest in the grave, and sing over them — 

" Asleep in Jesus — blessed sleep, 
From which none ever wake to weep." 

To reconcile the anticipations of believers with the dreary 
prospect of unconsciousness during the long interval prior to 
the resurrection, he affirms that a long and a short space of 
time are the same to one who is insensible ; that, to all prac- 
tical purposes, it is the same whether he is conscious at once, 
or for a long period to come. M To the party concerned," he 
says, "there is no interval whatever; but to each person, 



VIEWS OF WHATELY. 



259 



according to this supposition, the moment of his closing his 
eyes in death will be instantly succeeded by the sound of the 
last trumpet, which shall summon the dead, even though ages 
shall have intervened. And in this sense the faithful Christian 
may be practically in Paradise the day he dies. The promise 
made to the penitent thief, and the apostle's wish f to depart, 
and to be with Christ,' which, he said, was ? far better ' than 
to remain any longer in this troublesome world, would each be 
fulfilled to all practical purposes, provided each shall have 
found himself in a state of happiness in the presence of his 
Lord, the very instant (according to his own perception) after 
having breathed his last in this world." 

There is yet another thing advanced by some who argue to 
this same end, — that the soul can never exist separately from 
the body, and be active, since the latter is a necessary vehicle 
— that on which it depends for the exercise of its powers. 
The mind receives its impressions through the organs of sense, 
which are parts of the body ; " and if, as seems highly probable, 
the brain is the organ of thought, it follows that the soul, so 
far from acting with more freedom and energy when parted 
from the body, will not be able to act at all, but will remain, 
if it continues to exist, in a state of utter insensibility, just as 
a man is in a state of insensibility to objects of sight while his 
eyes are closed, though his spiritual part is not at all im- 
paired." Do such fully apprehend the spiritual? Who with 
the natural understanding can look into all the possibilities 
of futurity in respect to this or any other question? Can 
any " by searching find out God, — find out the Almighty 
unto perfection"? If so, they may tell us what shall happen 
unto the spirit when the Lord leadeth it out unto himself, — 
tell the " Lord's secrets ; " but till then care should be exer- 
cised lest the attempt be made to tell 

" more than He has taught, 
Tell more than he revealed ; 
Preach tidings which he never brought, 
And read what he left sealed." 



260 



LESSONS FROM THE DOCTRINE. 



Conjectures, indeed, may not be disallowed, if pursued 
humbly and reverentially ; but where the Scriptures are silent, 
we can say nothing positively. All that is necessary for us to 
know certainly we do know. We know that we must die ; we 
know that after death is the judgment, that from the trial and 
the sentence there is no escape, and that from the character of 
it we shall know our endless doom. We know that we may 
avert a miserable destiny by a cordial reception of Christ — by 
a practical and grateful recognition of the infinite sacrifice; 
we know that heaven is open " to him that overcometh ; " and 
we know how we may overcome, — so that it becometh us to 
act according to the knowledge we possess, and thereby be 
fitted for an eternally happy state, commence when it may. 
Trusting in Jesus, we cannot be unhappy ; yielding our spirits 
to his care, we need not be troubled by fears that he will leave 
them unheeded and alone in any part of their history. The 
divine care and love are constant; and because we, in our 
short-sightedness, with our limited capacity, cannot comprehend 
how the soul can exist without the body, or precisely how it will 
fare, shall we pronounce our own decisions, and by so doing 
limit the Infinite ? We never shall know fully of these things 
until we have an experimental acquaintance with the laws which 
govern the spirit-realm. 

God is a living, active, all-pervading spirit ; and is he not 
able to create a sphere for the activity of all those who lay 
aside their bodies and go out of sight ? 

Does he not tell us of "ministering spirits sent forth to 
minister unto them who shall be heirs of salvation " ? thus re- 
minding us that somewhere holy beings reside who are swift on 
errands of love, whose sympathies are in fullest exercise, and 
whose activity is constant and untiring, far surpassing anything 
conceived in mortal regions among those " clothed upon," even 
among the holiest and best. We have known holy men and 
women, whose love, sympathy, and benevolence were after a 
divine pattern; but these always regarded their bodies as a 



GOB'S WAY BEST. 



261 



fettering thing, and each looked forward with delight to the 
time when the soul should receive its blessed emancipation, and 
fly to its congenial work in a purer sphere. Said a Christian 
mother to her weeping children, "I am almost home. To- 
morrow you will be sorrowing, but I shall be happy — rejoicing 
in heaven. Think of me there, and let it dry your tears and 
soothe your grief." Multitudes, with the same consolation, 
have left the loved and mourning circle on earth, expecting the 
speedy realization of their hopes. Who taught them this? 
We say neither one thing nor the other. We cannot. 

God doeth all things well. He has a right to do as it pleas- 
eth him. "His ways are not as our ways," but they are 
infinitely better. If he see fit to take the soul to himself im- 
mediately after death, it is well : if he choose some other way, 
it is also well. It is true it is more grateful to our feelings to 
think of entering at once into the joy of the Lord, and to us 
the evidence may be sufficient to warrant the certainty of ex- 
pectation ; but in this let all be united " to seek first the king- 
dom of God and his righteousness," and the assurance is ready 
that all good things will be added, not only in this life, but in 
that which is to come. 



262 UNIVERSALITY OF HOME INFLUENCE. 



CHAPTEE XVI . 

THE FUTURE THE SOUL'S ETERNAL HOME. 

Universality of Home Influence. — Providential Designs. — The eternal 
Home. — Views of Iteason and Imagination. — Character given to a 
future Home by these. — The only true Picture found in the Gospel. — 
A little While and the Christian will reach the blessed Mansions. 

"If there be ever a charm, a joy, without satiety or alloy; 
If there be a hope that lives, on the pure happiness it gives ; 
If there be a refuge fair, a safe retreat from toil and care, 
Where the heart may a dwelling find, with many joys combined, 
Where every feeling, every tone, best harmonizes with its own, 
Whence its vain wishes ne'er can rove, — 
O, it is home ! — a home of love ! " — Anon. 

Among the sweet sounds that vibrate through the earth, none 
is sweeter than home ; none hath greater power to stir the fount 
of feeling and awake pure and holy thought, true and worthy 
affections, which are as angel-guides to the naturally wayward, 
straying heart. All the choicest blessings of life cluster here, 
and there are none so hardened or perverse as not to have a 
chord somewhere which can be touched by the tender remem- 
brances of home. It may be deeply imbedded in a rough 
nature — well nigh destroyed by crime ; but traces of it 
remain longer than anything else ; and the heart of the cul- 
prit melts, the tears of the prisoner flow, as a loving hand 
applies the pressure. The proud and the guilty may be 
dead to almost every consideration rather than to the associa- 
tions of the sacred spot where they were shaded and shielded 
in their earliest and happiest days. They may wander abroad, 
forsake the temples of God and the altars of religion ; but the 



THE CHASMS OF HOME. 



263 



smoke of that incense which went up from the fireside altar 
around which they were wont to gather is never out of mind. 
The sanctuary of home will always be sacred ; so that, in think- 
ing of this, the involuntary language of the wanderer will be, — 
" My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee." 

Wherever he may roam, and whatever he may be, or under 
whatever circumstances, and with whatever prospects, his heart 
and his home are synonymous things ; where one is the 
other will be. There are few indeed who have not some 
cherished spot around which fond memories linger — a spot 
loved above all others, the love of which may be pressed to 
the heart as a talisman for safety in a path thickly set with 
evil. 

' The mountain heights are dear to some, 

To some the valley's deep recess ; 
To some the desert is a home, 
With thoughts to cheer and thoughts to bless. 

" To some the tempest-troubled sea 
Is music ; while the snows and ice 
That gird earth's arctic scenery 
To some bring dreams of Paradise. 

" The fervor of the tropic beams, 

The darkness of deep woods, the fall 
Of dangerous, cataract-shaken streams, 
All scatter joys around them — all." 

And why ? Because of the blessed associations connected with 
them ; because in each there are heart resting-places — arbors 
where living tendrils creep and twine, forming unions and 
alliances of most beautiful growth, so that to assail them is 
to touch life in its tenderest and most sacred form. 

It makes no difference whether it be in a burnino; or a frigid 
zone : if loving hearts intertwine, there is a spot where sweet- 
ness and fertility shed their grateful influences to cheer human 
souls. It cannot be otherwise, for the home is a God-ordained 
institution. He has made it the deepest and most central want 



264 



THE HOME GOB'S GIFT. 



of the soul, so far as earth and time are concerned. There 
are loves, affections, hopes, and desires in every nature, that 
can be fully met and expanded only by the quiet, subduing, 
elevating influences of home. It is a safeguard, a blessing 
in every conceivable point of view, and speaks loudly in 
praise of that benevolence which had such particular and 
tender regard for the welfare and happiness of mankind, 
especially since these same human beings have manifested 
from the first a disregard of claims existing between them- 
selves and the all-benevolent One. Whatever we may say 
or think of God's plans in reference to other things, in this 
we all agree — that in the peculiar fitness of the home for 
the heart, the arrangements of Providence are admirable. 
These " special points and centres " for the attraction of human 
love and sympathy, these relations and affinities that give us 
so much of pure, unmixed delight, are among the best gifts 
of Heaven to mortal men. The ties which bind the family 
circle together are stronger and purer than all others. In its 
disinterestedness, its unselfishness, there is "less of earth and 
more of heaven " than in anything else on earth. Language 
fails to limit the influence of a truly happy home — happy in 
the true and highest sense, which means simply that it be a 
Christian home. 

In sickness and sorrow, in any and all circumstances, we 
turn to home, as the realization of every hope, with the expec- 
tation of finding ourselves soothed in every particular. No 
time of life is more trying in all the world than that which calls 
us away from the long-sheltering roof, beneath which has been 
garnered a priceless store of pleasures, unknown and unnamed 
save in the home circle that eagerly shared them. JVo time, 
did we say ? We must not forget the sorrowful era that trans- 
fers the home centre to the other side of the " dark river ; " 
but our present theme calls us to the contemplation of earthly 
joys, while unbroken, particularly. 

The conviction always grows upon the mind of the ambitious , 



THE POWER OF HOME. 



265 



wandering youth, who has been lured away by the influence 

of promising schemes, that 

"There is a spot of earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest," 

where cheerful hearts, like the kaleidoscope, make varied and 
beautiful forms of the most discordant materials. Hence the 
traveller in foreign lands has no fear like that of dying away from 
home and kindred, and the song of the wasting invalid is not un- 
frequently borne to us in the pathetic words, " Carry me home 
to die ; " and coupled with this is the eager inquiry, " Are we 
almost there "? The spirit gathers strength amid home scenes. 
All thoughts, ideas, and associations of these things are pleasant, 
refreshing, and it is a place where all love to linger. Other 
things may lose their charm, but to life's latest day there is a 
magic spell around this. There is no grief like that which one 
feels if he be torn from them. There are no tears more bitter 
than those which the homeless shed. There is nothing that 
calls out quicker and livelier sympathies than to hear from quiv- 
ering lips the story of no home. Its possession is the highest 
and best treasure with all, and to be deprived of it is the greatest 
earthly calamity that can be experienced. 

w If I only had a home, as I once had," was the tearful ex- 
pression of one who had known a sad reversion, " I should ask 
for nothing more ; " and the same pitiful strain has come from 
many who have been led to feel that there is nothing so much 
to be desired on earth as a home. It is not so strange that 
home has been called the most expressive word in our language 
— the sweetest in the whole vocabulary. It is to be doubted 
if another one can be found which stirs the fount of feeling 
so effectually as this — which is so perfectly electrical in its 
influence. Even the ravings of dark delirium are often of 
"home, sweet home;" and no visions are so clear, powerful, 
and constant as those that come into the clouded mental cham- 
bers from this source. If, then, the idea of home be so much to 
us ; if it be a necessity to have some place where to bestow our 



266 



WHAT THE FUTURE HOME, 



affections which are undying in their nature, and if we adopt 
the conclusion, as we certainly must, that immortality is a 
divinely-conferred gift upon all men, — then it becomes a ques- 
tion infinitely more important than all others, Where is the 
home of my soul, and what may its character be? 

If our earthly homes are so much to us, having power to 
control the whole character — subduing, reclaiming when nothing 
else can — challenging remembrance and love to the latest hours 
of life, what must be the future home, the eternal dwelling-place, 
of the soul ? The modifying circumstances of time, in connection 
with home, are matters to us of the deepest interest, since our 
comfort is enhanced or impaired by them. We prepare for 
them, we dwell upon them, we anticipate or fear according to 
the prospect before us ; but as far as eternity exceeds time, so 
far do the conditions of the future exceed the transitory arrange- 
ments of the present life. There are no provisions so important 
for us to make as those which relate to the welfare of the soul. 
There are no preparations that equal in solemn interest those 
demanded by the journey to the immortal land, for none ever 
return ; all abide there forever ; it is the home of those who 
" go hence." They go to a different clime, to be surrounded 
by new influences, associations, and companions ; to engage in 
new scenes and employments, to be conversant with a new 
state of society altogether. So much, reason might assert, for 
if it settle down upon the strong probability of the endless life 
of the soul, it must also conclude something with reference to 
the manner of that life — how it shall be sustained, and what 
shall be characteristic of it. What, then, may we suppose man, 
guided simply by reason, would think of his future home? He 
cannot be wholly indifferent to it. If he thinks himself im- 
mortal, he will ruminate upon the probable consequences of im- 
mortality to him, and according to the strength and purity of 
his belief will be the measure of thought. Taking man as he is, 
with a given bias of mind and character, with his affections, 
loves, and hopes, we may suppose that in thinking of a future 



CHARACTERISTICS OF TEE FUTURE HOME. 267 



home, he would naturally imagine it to be one which would 
involve the exercise of these. The present life must give the 
coloring to another. That which affords the highest enjoyment 
here is transferred, it may be in a perfected sense, to that which 
is to come. The social idea must be realized. In proportion 
as this part of the nature is developed, the mind would anticipate 
the same element in the coming and higher life. There man 
imagines a tone of society that will perfectly suit his ideas ; 
he anticipates that there everything will accord with his tastes ; 
that his companions will be congenial, and so his employments. 
In reality, ideas may be low and contracted, like those of the 
Indian, whose highest conceptions of a blissful life are spread- 
ing forests in which to roam, with a faithful dog, and plenty 
of game that may be easily taken ; but there is no point, practi- 
cally, beyond the highest, and if this be the loftiest view of 
which they are capable, and this their most refined imagination, 
then their future home must be to them a sphere wholly gauged 
by the present. Not that their ultimate destiny will really be 
under their control, but only that their earthly life determines 
their views and expectations of the future. 

So, too, with all : that which constitutes the truest pleasure 
and yields the largest revenue of satisfaction would naturally be 
associated with the eternal home. Those who found peculiar 
gratification in the indulgence of the social instincts would think 
this the crowning glory of life under any conditions. Those to 
whom intellectual progress was an all-absorbing passion, who 
spent months and years in untiring devotion to science and art, 
would revel in the idea of an unimpeded pathway for their dis- 
coveries. And so, according to man's various predilections 
would be the variety of homes which imagination would build 
up for future residence. 

There might be some general features in which all would 
agree. Let the opinions of all mankind upon this one subject 
be gathered together, and it will be found that the home of 
the soul has been regarded as an inviting place. Around that 



268 



PERMANENCY DESIRED. 



would cluster all things that in any way tend to its comfort and 
well-being. So much of beauty and benevolent design is 
manifest in all that the eyes behold here, that culmination of 
beauty seems a natural conclusion of the human mind. The 
ideal is never fully realized below ; therefore we discover a 
universal belief that it is to come. 

Permanency would also be a characteristic ascribed by gen- 
eral consent. This forms the basis of all true happiness. The 
soul can never fully rest upon anything that is transient, as is 
seen in its constant restlessness in time ; and therefore in all 
ideas of that to which it tends, there will ever be associated a 
joy which is changeless — a something so solid and substantial 
as to leave no room for fear lest the foundation be swept away. 
Oftentimes in this life, that which is loved the fondest and best 
is the soonest to be taken, and that on which we had most con- 
fidently relied is the first to fail us ; so that we swing to and fro, 
feeling that nowhere have we a foundation upon which to rest 
our feet — that there is nothing abiding, nothing sure. The 
world is full of sighs ; there are fountains of tears welling up 
from deep places, because of sad changes. Supports to which 
confiding natures cling with firmest tenacity are constantly 
falling, while but few know what has been crushed — what has 
been the extent of the ruin. " Sorrow's breezes" are continually 
bearing away some " heart-leaves," and through all the world 
dirges and requiems are mingled with new-born hopes and joy- 
ful anthems. There is no security against bankruptcy in these 
things. If to-day we are rich in our store of love and pleasure, 
to-morrow we may lose the whole, and feel, with anguish of heart, 
that there is nothing abiding here ; and with so much of this 
experience it is natural to consider permanency an essential 
requisite of the home imagined to exist beyond this earth. 

It would also be a home of peace and rest. The chafings and 
tossings of mortal life, its wars and commotions, are not wel- 
come. Every individual stands on battle-ground — on the 
field of moral action, where opposing forces marshal them- 



BEST AND PEACE SOUGHT. 



269 



selves in fearful array. Instead of conquering, they are often 
conquered, until, weary and disheartened, they would lay their 
armor by, and find repose from the din and strife of clamorous 
hosts in some more favorable condition. It is true this war- 
fare is never waged intelligently until we learn to apply the 
motives and inducements of the gospel ; but with no prompter 
but conscience, we know there must be something of antago- 
nism, since right and wrong both battle for indulgence. With 
this state of things, there is ample occasion to lead the soul to 
the appreciation of peace, and to desire in its profoundest 
depths a home of rest. 

Its native desires tend to a home where all things shall be 
spread out on a larger and more perfect scale than can be found 
on earth. We observe the tendency among the unenlightened, 
the unchristianized nations of the world ; but, after all, the 
home of the soul is never known, never fully understood, until 
it is disclosed by the messengers which God hath appointed 
for that purpose. All that we have mentioned, and even more, 
might be supposed concerning it ; but it would be nothing but 
baseless and unsatisfactory conjecture, comparatively. God 
hath prepared a place for the soul — a home where it is to 
dwell through inconceivable ages ; and how natural to suppose 
that man would desire the most perfect knowledge respecting 
it — that he would be eager for precise information of his eternal 
dwelling-place ! It has been given. The nature, the charac- 
teristics, the employments of it are intimated, but no full and 
elaborate description is given. Some things are held in reserve 
by the Divine Proprietor, and enraptured guests are to find 
abundant blessing in the exercise of new and enlarged con- 
ceptions ; but these things are to appear as we further unfold 
them in future chapters, guided by Scripture authority. There, 
is a glorious home for the Christian. It is a happy, permanent, 
and peaceful home. Human conception has never reached the 
heights of felicity that tower so loftily here. All that can be 
imagined falls below the reality ; " eye hath not seen, nor ear 



270 



THIS HOME ONLY FOR THE CHRISTIAN. 



heard " such sights and sounds as are to be seen and heard 
when the disembodied spirit shall find itself an inmate of its 
eternal home. 

But is this home, this blessed home, for all spirits? We 
know the distinction which is made. We know that " nothing 
which is defiled " can enter in ; that the impure cannot be 
classed with the pure, the unholy with the holy, for this would 
destroy the blessedness, the sacredness, of the heavenly abode. 

The peaceful enclosure will never be invaded by hostile 
bands, and the happy family, with their celestial guards, will 
dwell in conscious security, while those who rejected the allur- 
ing title must know the strife and unrest of a far different 
home through all eternity. O, surely nothing can equal in 
importance the home of the soul. Nothing can excel in anti- 
cipative interest the idea of admission into the blessed, man- 
sions of eternal rest — the New Jerusalem. We turn to the 
contemplation of this — the purchased possession of the saints, 
the inheritance of believers, the world of light, and the Chris- 
tian's home, with this reflection — that its real glory is yet 
unrevealed ; that it is never to be fully comprehended until the 
gates unloose to let the travellers in, and the full splendor of 
the eternal throne bursts upon their wondering sight. Until 
then the Christian may labor, meanwhile singing, — 

"Home, sweet, sweet home, 
O Saviour, conduct me to heaven, my home." 

The days of exile are fast passing away ; the time of ban- 
ishment is soon coming to an end ; the period is hasting when 
Jesus will say to the faithful and obedient, — 

" Well done ! Sit down on my throne, 
And dwell in my presence, forever at home." 

A "dark river," "a narrow stream," spans the way between 
this home and that ; yet but a little while and we shall all have 
crossed over ; a little while, and we shall be inhabitants of 
another country ; we shall be roaming on the banks of anoth- 
er shore ; it may be w singing salvation forever and ever." 



GOING HOME. 271 

Whether it be so or not depends upon the preparation which is 
made in time. Those who wisely care for these things close 
their eyes upon this sublunary sphere, with the triumphant 
ejaculation, "I'm going home." The prospect lures them 
onward. They may have enjoyed much in their earthly homes, 
and grateful songs may have ascended often for so much of 
goodness ; yet there is no home like the heavenly home, and 
they welcome death, which " divides this heavenly land from 
ours," with peculiar joy. 

" Sweet glories rush upon the sight, 
And charm the wondering eyes — 
The regions of immortal light, 
The beauties of the skies." 



272 NECESSITY OF HEAVEN TO PAGAN MINDS. 



CHAP TEE XVII. 

THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

Necessity of Heaven to Pagan Minds. — The various heavenly Creations. 
— TJie New Jerusalem of the Bible. — Heaven prefigured by Paradise 
and Canaan. — Locality of Heaven. — Opinions of various Writers. — 
Inspired Declarations. — Inconceivable Glories. 

" There is a happy land, far, far away, 
Where saints in glory stand, bright, bright as day." 

" Jerusalem, my glorious home, 
Name ever dear to me. 
Then shall my labors have an end ! 
When I thy joys shall see." 

For long ages, pilgrims in this unsatisfying land have been 
pressing eagerly forward, hoping for some shrine before which 
their spirits might bow, to realize the deep, unspoken longings 
of mysterious, restless natures. They have been anxious to 
know what they should see and experience when they should 
look upon the receding shores of time. Happiness is the uni- 
versal consideration ; therefore all have conceived the idea of a 
happy land, the location, the characteristics, of which have 
been varied according to the ignorance, or the cultivation and 
refinement, of the people who originated the several creations. 
There is hardly a Pagan mind, however isolated or conditioned, 
but that from some corner of its contracted self there comes 
welling up a desire for fairer hills and plains than it has yet 
seen. It is inherent in the human soul. Be it Christian or 
barbarian, there is yet a kindred passion for the better ; and 
this, in its fulness, is buried from sight in the expected future. 
There they place it — the shrine is there. The difference is 
wide indeed. To the one it is the dignity and glory of the 



PAGAN VIEWS OF THE FUTURE. 



273 



New Jerusalem ; to the other, the low delights of a sensual 
Paradise, the place of the gods, the abode of their deities. 
Indefiniteness characterizes all ideas in the childhood of na- 
tions, and thus we find this as we look far back into the past. 
While they discoursed of the departed as having gone to the 
gods, they scarcely paused to inquire, even of themselves, where 
the divinities dwelt. They were satisfied with the strange and 
the vague. The more of distortion and mystery, the more 
their emotions were mingled with awe and solemnity — if, in- 
deed, so meaning a term may be applied to so meaningless a 
religion. At a later date, when a train of logical and philo- 
sophical influences began to work, a quickening impulse was 
given to mind, and it began to speculate upon the realm of the 
gods, and the final position held in reserve for the good. It 
must embrace definite forms. There must be definite seats and 
thrones for the gods, and a definite place for the soul's home ; 
but according as men were earthly in their ideas this was sur- 
rounded with those things which constituted their highest ideal 
of benefit, and located in sympathy with their knowledge and 
desire. Their ambition was bounded by the terrestrial. Even 
their gods were imperfect and vengeful, and their heaven was 
overhung with the drapery of earth — yea, it was a part of 
earth itself, a favored portion, a fortunate isle, wrapped in sa- 
cred mystery indeed, but free from the incursions of hostile 
invaders, and happily exempt from anything to break the charm 
which reigned within and around it. 

Hence the sacredness and beauty of the Elysian fields, with 
their mildness of sky, serenity of air, refreshing shades, and 
perpetual spring, comprising all of loveliness that human fancy 
could suggest. These were ever spread out to invite the hopes 
of the ancients — peaceful and blessed places of abode. All 
the fascinations of poetry and romance were lavished upon 
them to increase their beauty and lend attraction, so that even 
the word Elysium passed into the language as the synonyme 
for everything that is bright and lovely. 
18 



/ 



274 



ELYSIUM. 



There were "vine-clad vales" and shaded bowers, where 

thick-clustering sweets were showered upon delicate senses ; 

there they made 

" Mossy grottos echo crystal floods 
That murmur over sands of gold," 

and there "ambrosial trees" were to bear richest fruits, and 
flowers find full and fadeless perfection. Perennial sweetness 
and gentle, soul-quieting music were but an item in the 
varied prospect of their unearthly, and yet very earthly, 
abode. Somewhat like to this were the Hesperian Gardens, 
and Islands of the Blest, in calm and stormless seas, rising 
from out a misty realm, "beautiful for situation," and offer- 
ing delightful recreation to tired mariners who had ended the 
voyage of life and found themselves upon the inviting shore. 
The breezes from off these peaceful isles were richly laden 
with delicious odors, intoxicating the spirit. These inviting 
bowers and smiling seas, however, it is thought, may be " easily 
traced back to the whispers of revelations in the cool of Eden, 
and in the tents of patriarchs, which promised to the good a 
land of peace and love beyond the stars, of which the earthly 
Paradise was but a shadowy type." This may be ; but at this 
time it is evident that superstition had taken the place of reve- 
lation ; that a sensuous religion had usurped the place of the 
quiet, permeating, far-reaching Christian faith, and people had 
degenerated into the natural, instead of rising into the spiritual. 
Their conceptions to purely Christian sense seem highly sen- 
sual and forbidding. Heaven was the product of a gross im- 
agination, and all ideas of heavenly felicity were coined from 
a low human experience, and consequently were of a miserable 
type. The highest ideal of the future Elysium was a. place 
that afforded opportunity for the utmost gratification of the 
passions, feelings, and desires, and for the indulgence of habit. 
The elevation and expansion of the soul by the influence of 
virtue and truth, constant and endless progression in holy 
character and experience, were no part of their anticipated 
destiny. 



EE AVE N OF THE STOICS. 



275 



Permanency was not stamped either upon their religion or 
their heaven. The joys of the latter were but temporary, as 
the opinions of philosophers indicate. A thousand years might 
indeed offer their quota of enjoyment ; but how even this period 
of time recedes into a mere point compared with the compre- 
hensive or incomprehensible idea of a Bible eternity ! Said 
one of the wisest of the ancients, "They who live holy and 
excellent lives, being freed from these earthly places as from 
prisons, ascend to a pure region above the earth, where they 
dwell ; and those of them who are sufficiently purged by phi- 
losophy, live all their time without bodies, and ascend to still 
more beautiful habitations," to engage in "a series of joys and 
delights which cannot be described." He was in advance of 
the times in which he lived. His fellow-men had little sym- 
pathy with, or appreciation of, a standard that enjoined sanctity 
of life as a requisite for admission into the happy regions ; yet 
it is interesting to notice how the earliest human experience 
betokens the desire and expectation — yea, the necessity — for 
a heaven. 

Even the cheerless and repulsive philosophy of the Stoics 
is not without hopeful rays, that fall upon the stern nature 
with something of that influence which the warming sun of 
spring exerts upon the icy vales of winter. Zeno, the father 
and founder of this sect, taught his followers that the spirits 
of the good have an abode fitted expressly for them ; that it is 
placed in subterranean regions, but, nevertheless, very fair and 
delightful. And yet this is wanting in the essential element 
of happiness — perpetuity. From this region of delight they 
are ultimately to go out, since a mighty conflagration will 
resolve all things, both matter and spirit, heaven and earth, 
into their original elements, and therefore in one common ruin. 
For a time there will be utter satisfaction, and then, utter 
annihilation, which, to a soul of infinite and ceaseless longings, 
is not at all adequate. However beautiful the heaven of the 
ancients, it is, nevertheless, wanting in the necessary elements, 



276 



HEAVEN OF TEE JAPANESE. 



— in all that constitutes true, heavenly bliss; and it must 
■ ever be thus with every abode which is not permanent. 
However garnished, and whatever its boasted character, it 
will always fall below the soul's level unless it be eternal. 
Those in modern times who have been unblest with gospel 
light have equally untrue notions of a heavenly state. Ab- 
surdities do not belong exclusively to the ancients, but, in a 
greater or less degree, to all people that know not the true 
God and Jesus Christ, who prepares mansions in a glorious 
world for the reception of his own, where he entertains them 
eternally. The carnal mind cannot appreciate spiritual things, 
and, if left to frame a heaven for itself, it will arrange a 
state of things more or less carnal as the scene of its future 
operations and enjoyment. The inhabitants of the Friendly 
Isles have a prevalent belief that the soul after death " is 
immediately conveyed, in a fast-sailing canoe, to a distant 
country, called Doobludha, resembling the Mahometan para- 
dise ; that those who are conveyed thither are no more subject 
to death, but feast on all the favorite productions of their 
native soil, with which this blissful abode is plentifully fur- 
nished." 

The Japanese have a place of eternal pleasures they call 
the GoJciiraJcf, where the souls of men receive their reward 
according to the merit of their past actions, forming degrees 
of happiness and pleasure ; but the whole place is conceived 
to be so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of peace and love, 
" that each happy inhabitant thinks his portion the best, and, 
far from envying the happier state of others, wishes only for- 
ever to enjoy his own." The sovereign commander of these 
heavenly stations is Amida, the patron and protector of human 
souls, the God and Father of those who are so happy as to 
merit an introduction to the blessed place. This merit is based 
solely upon a virtuous life, and a regard to all things agreeable 
to their acknowledged head. 

What a place is the Mahometan paradise ! — voluptuous in 



THE MAHOMETAN PARADISE. 



277 



the extreme. " Their saints are represented as luxuriating 
amid beautiful gardens, carpeted with verdant grass, and 
enamelled with flowers, watered with copious streams, cano- 
pied with umbrageous trees, whose branches are loaded with 
luscious fruit, and thousands of bells of various sizes, sus- 
pended from them, at every motion of the breeze give out 
enchanting music. Their bliss is still further enhanced by 
the sweetest melody and most harmonious strains from the 
silver-toned voices of the daughters of paradise. They feed 
on the most delicious fruits, and drink water from the most 
beautiful and precious vessels. Clothed in green silk, they 
enjoy the perpetual company of young and lovely black-eyed 
maidens, who have all the perfections imagination can con- 
ceive, without any of those mental or physical defects so 
common to those with whom they of earth associate." Here 
every sense is indeed ministered unto. These physical organs 
of pleasure are enlarged to a wonderful capacity, and their 
means for gratification are equally varied and wonderful ; but 
where is the recognition of anything higher than a sensual 
nature, where the acknowledgment of any deeper wants than 
those resulting from mere animal life ? Can man with a soul, 
an immortal soul, an earnest, yearning soul, find a heaven 
in this? 

There is yet another people whose spirit-habitation, whose 
heaven, is in the clouds. There the brave and virtuous are 
received into aerial palaces, while the wicked, the cowardly, 
and cruel are excluded from these fair abodes, and condemned 
to wander, the sport of every breeze. In these " cloud-capped 
palaces " are different mansions, the principal of which is 
assigned to persons of distinguished merit and courage — a 
circumstance which is held out as an inducement for warriors 
to excel in their profession, and to encourage a spirit of emu- 
lation among them. This airy heaven offers no other enjoy- 
ments than those the spirit preferred while in the flesh, since 
the same passions are retained, and the same inclinations, 



278 HEAVEN OF THE MEXICAN INDIANS. 



which prompted and animated in a lower sphere. They 
imagine an increase of power, having control over the winds 
and the storms, but none over man. 

We notice but one other combination, which is the belief of 
the Mexican Indians — a form grossly materialistic and repul- 
sive to all fine feelings, but such as we might, perhaps, expect 
from their untaught, unenlightened minds. The matter and 
the manner of future happiness, their ideas of the heavenly 
abode, and how it is reached, are so strangely interwoven, 
we transcribe them as we find their record on the pages of 
mythology : — 

" The spirits of soldiers who died in battle, or in captivity 
among their enemies, and those of some others, went to the 
house of the Sun, whom they considered the Lord of Glory ; 
and there they led a life of infinite delights, where, every day, at 
the appearance of the sun's rays, they hailed his birth with re- 
joicings and dances, and the sound of voices and instruments 
accompanied him to his meridian ; then they met with the 
souls of others, who, with the same festivity, accompanied 
him to his setting. They next supposed that these spirits, 
after four years of this glorious life, went to animate clouds, 
and birds of beautiful feather and sweet song, but were always 
at liberty to rise again to heaven, or to descend to the earth to 
warble and suck the flowers. 

" The souls of those who were struck by lightning, of those 
who died by disease, went, with the souls of the children 
sacrificed to Tlaloc, to a place called Tlalocan, the paradise 
of that god. This was a cool, shady place, where they had 
the most delicious repasts, and every other kind of pleasure. 
All those entitled to a seat in this place were buried, and a 
rod or bough was placed in their hands, that in that beautiful 
paradise it might bloom again. The spirits of all those 
children who had been offered to Tlaloc were believed to be 
present at all after sacrifices, under the care of a large and 
beautiful serpent, which serpent at other times was supposed 



HEAVEN OF TEE MEXICAN INDIANS. 



279 



to inhabit a cave sacred to the water-god in the country of the 
Mistecas. The entrance was concealed, and the sanctuary 
was consequently known to but few. It was necessary, first, 
to crawl the space of a musket-shot, and then to walk through 
a path, sometimes broad and sometimes narrow, for a mile, 
before the great dome was reached. This was seventy feet 
long, and forty feet wide. Here were the idol and the altar, 
the former being merely a rude column of stalactite, and the 
other a rock of the same mineral. The ways of the cave were 
so intricate that many who had unwarily bewildered them- 
selves in it, perished, and were said to have been eaten by the 
serpent. 

K It was not without some dangers that the favored spirits 
arrived at the mansion of the Sun, where their celestial happi- 
ness was to begin. In the hands of these, when dead, the 
priests of Mesitli placed six aloe leaves, marked with mystic 
characters, on one of which was to be the passport through 
the six perils that awaited them. The first was that of the 
falling mountains, between which those who passed would be, 
if not supernaturally protected, crushed to pieces. Through 
these the road lay, and also through the path of the great 
serpent. This was the second trial. Darting lightning from 
his eyes, and vibrating a tongue of fire, he seized on and 
devoured all who were not provided with mystic aloe leaves. 
The next danger was from crossing the river of the crocodile, 
where that monstrous animal was as dangerous as the great 
serpent. The fourth was the passage of the eight deserts ; the 
fifth was that of the eight hills ; and the sixth, the windy 
plain, in which the mountains were blown up by the roots. 
After this the way was easy, and the Temple of the Sun 
opened to receive the happy conquerors." 

In all this, which seems to us so like superstition and folly, 
there are, nevertheless, indications of the good and true — 
faint lines of the gospel system, obscured, indeed, by the thick 
shadows fallen upon them, but sending forth a ray here and 



280 



NEW JERUSALEM OF THE BIBLE. 



there that makes us conclude the Sun of righteousness was 
directing the minds of his straying children from behind the 
clouds. There appear the struggles of mind for the perfect, 
a conviction that "through tribulation," through much disci- 
pline, the soul must be fitted for entrance into the regions of 
the blessed. We notice the acknowledgment of superiority of 
being, with exclusive right to control the celestial world, and 
also to limit the period of time assigned to it ; but to select the 
true from so much that is untrue is like searching for diamonds 
on a very uncertain shore. How grateful to turn from this to 
the sight of that pure and radiant gem, Christianity, which 
shines with no borrowed lustre ! How delightful to turn from 
these false hopes, these bowers and groves that some make 
heaven, to the substantial foundations, the New Jerusalem of 
the gospel ! Here the heart and the soul can rest, and exult. 
A heathen heaven may have enchanting vales, and much to 
please the fancy, suit the taste, and regale the eye ; but there is 
no place that combines so much of beauty and joy as the Chris- 
tian's heaven. The heaven of the philosopher may have some- 
thing that is inviting, something to be appreciated ; but in 
surpassing glory the Scripture heaven transcends them all. 

What pen can describe the Holy City — the New Jerusalem ? 
Where is fit language for description? John saw it in holy 
vision, and heard things concerning it, that kindled the fervor 
of his seraphic spirit, and set his soul aglow with unutterable 
emotion ; but he exhausted all the richness of mortal dialect in 
the vain attempt to make the glory conceivable. He gathered 
choicest and costliest symbols in richest profusion, that he might 
give to titled sons an idea of their inheritance ; but the poverty 
of words is too great to portray it, and the overpowered spirit 
exclaims, after all attempts to speak its praise, " It passeth under- 
standing." w Come, Lord Jesus," as if he would enter into the 
possession of so blessed an estate, is the prayer of his enrap- 
tured soul, as he surveys the glorious prospect. What the 
New Jerusalem was, and will ever be, to the beloved disciple, 



NEW JERUSALEM OF THE BIBLE. 281 

so it is, and will ever be, to the true and faithful Christian. 
He may stand long watching and waiting to discern the tops 
of the heavenly heights ; but the time of reward and release 
will come ; the clouds will break away, the mists be dispelled, 
and the encircling glory of Paradise appear ; like J ohn he may 
be "carried away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, 
and be showed that great city, the Holy Jerusalem, descend- 
ing out of heaven from God, having the glory of God ; " and 
moreover, have this assurance, that there is no more going out 
forever. What a contrast here to the pagan heaven we have 
been considering ! There was a going out there — a fearful 
going out, since there was no pleasing hope of anything — rather 
a termination, an unhappy end of all things. If the gates of 
the Holy City, on "golden hinges turning," open to admit the 
earth-weary travellers, there is no fear that they will ever be 
opened to shut them out. It is an abiding city — O, blessed 
consolation to the tired pilgrim who has wandered long in his 
journey thither ! He has, it may be, passed through many a 
devious way, through many thorny and rugged paths, but there 
are no such places in the heavenly city. None will ever weary 
of pacing the streets of the New Jerusalem. The garnished 
walls and the pearly gates are close around them, and there is 
no danger, or weariness, or fear. O, what a blessed heaven 
is that which God prepares for his children ! It is worthy of 
the God whom the Bible reveals. The children of men in all 
ages have wanted a heaven, and they have borrowed all the 
imagery of earth to make one ; but holiness and blessed perma- 
nence belong alone to the eternal abode of the ransomed ones 
of the Lord. Nowhere else is there so much of glory as here. 
"And I saw no temple therein," said the delighted gazer, 
"for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple 
of it." 

"And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, 
to shine in it : for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb 
is the light thereof. 



282 TEE CHRISTIANS INHERITANCE. 



" And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the 
light of it : and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and 
honor into it." 

Everything that can possibly minister to pleasure, everything 
that in any way can delight the soul, is made to cluster around 
the home of the Christian — around heaven. There every idea 
of felicity is fully met. There is ample provision for the varied 
wants and woes of human kind. In order to make it attractive, 
some must needs find one thing, and some another ; and God, in 
anticipation of this, has poured out satisfaction, with an unsparing 
hand, through all the regions of the blessed, and says to all his 
followers, " Come, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
you." And what a kingdom ! Why is there no more longing 
to take the crown and besin the reicm ? No more eagerness to 
obtain a deed, and thus secure the inheritance? 

How often the Bible describes it in this manner — as an 
" eternal inheritance " — one that is " incorruptible, and un- 
defined, and that fadeth not away ; " " an inheritance among 
all them which are sanctified," "the inheritance of the saints 
in light." To the poor journeying on, exiles from their 
Father's house, how inspiring is this figure ! How beautiful 
and attractive it must have seemed to God's ancient people, 
in their weary years of banishment and wandering in the 
desert ! Amid all the sorrows of long-deferred hopes, they 
kept in view a promised land, around which all desire cen- 
tred, all their affections gathered, and all effort was directed. 
Canaan was the object of their hearts, and thither their steps 
tended. Its possession was their whole ambition, and it came 
to be considered the type of heaven ; " and they gazed at the 
land of their hopes beyond the skies through its lovely 
images. This was the picture, yonder was the reality. This 
was the shadow, yonder was the substance. This was the 
earthly, yonder was the heavenly Canaan — the true in- 
heritance." 

So with Christian exiles now. Earth may offer a temporary 



CANAAN EMBLEM OF HEAVEN. 



283 



Canaan, pleasant in its attractions, inviting in many aspects, 
and we may rejoice in the security of the title we possess ; but 
there is no inheritance like the one above ; there is no land like 
the immortal land. 

The places here may "flow with milk and honey," but 
dearer, richer sweets are flowing there, in streams, too, that 
refresh and gladden the soul continually, preserving a spirit- 
vigor and freshness that seem strangely beautiful to us who 
mourn the languor and feebleness of time-decaying powers. 
There is no blight, no decay there, in the Paradise of God ; and 
this is another name the Scriptures give to heaven, applied, it 
may be, in allusion to the original Paradise which God pre- 
pared for man in Eden — that home of unspotted innocence and 
undimmed loveliness, that spot which combined more of beauty 
and gladness than any portion of earth ever did, or ever will. 
Everything that was pleasant to the sight or the taste was 
abundant there. It was a garden of special delights. All 
that we know of delicious odors, and delicate perfumes, 
was more fully known by those who felt the breezes as they 
swept through those newly-planted groves. What sounds, what 
exquisite melody, fell upon their ears ! What peace pervaded 
the hearts of the inhabitants of Eden ! What ecstasy filled their 
souls ! They lived in Paradise. The place was lost, the title 
was lost in the miserable fall, and the inheritance passed out of 
their hands, and they went forth into the dreary, dark wilder- 
ness outside, to be haunted by the image of their loved and 
lost home. In their hours of sorrow and days of distress they 
never forgot the place they had left ; and when their injured 
God beheld with pity, and promised to provide a way through 
which they might regain purity and peace, then what hopes 
were born, what emotions stirred ! We marvel not if every- 
thing that was tender, joyous, and sweet was awakened in their 
inmost souls at the mention of a Paradise to come. Now, 
heaven, under the figure of Paradise, stood in contrast, in their 
minds, with the desolate earth around them, upon which they 



284 



EDEN EMBLEM OF HEAVEN. 



could see, in all directions, the marks of the curse, in the form 
of thorns and thistles, of barrenness and blight. What picture 
could be presented to the hopes of a nature-loving and imagi- 
native Oriental heart more attractive than that which sacred 
tradition drew of that rural abode of innocence and love which 
was lost by sin ? The devout Jewish shepherd, while watching 
his flock picking the scanty sod, or while leading them from 
place to place, in painful search of better pasture, or the hus- 
bandman, while toiling in the sweat of his face to obtain his 
bread from the earth, would look in hopeful smiles through 
the tears of his toil toward that land, which, like the Paradise 
of old, yields spontaneously ; where trees of richest foliage 
and of most delicious fruit invite the eye ; and which, while 
they drop their fruit upon the earth, at the same time cover 
those who gather it with their shelter and their shade. Whether 
they regarded this representation of heaven as figurative or 
literal, it was alike true in its substance, and alike pleasant 
to their faith and hope. How home-like, how full of touch- 
ing associations, as connected with the past, and how full of 
promise, was the hope that what was lost on earth would be 
found in heaven ! 

The same hopes that animated the Jewish shepherds and 
the weary laborers of olden time, still encourage the toil- 
worn Christian in his life vocations. Earth may be sterile, 
the fruits of enjoyment few ; but he sees Paradise — he ex- 
pects it ; and he knows in the fruitfulness of that region he 
will find full compensation for all that has been denied him 
here. 

The joys of that place, who can tell them? How sweetly 
they beam upon the dying believer ! "Earth is beautiful," said 
one, " but the Paradise to which I am going is infinitely more 
so. The flowers here are very fair, but they are not like the 
fadeless ones I shall see there." 

Who can tell what fair creations may skirt the borders of 
that crystal stream which flows through the heavenly Jerusa- 



OUR FATHERS BOUSE. 



285 



lem ; what wondrous beauty may adorn that life-giving tree 
that stands on "either side " of the "pure river"? Sayest thou 
that the " river 99 and the "tree" are figurative? Is it so? 
Whoso shall 

' ' reach the heavenly plains, 
And walk the golden streets," 

shall find enough of beauty and of joy to satisfy the finest per- 
ceptions and the keenest desire. When the massy gates of 
Paradise are thrown open, and the shining host shout the "wel- 
come home," the spirit thus received will then know the bless- 
edness of its home. "Not until then will it be fully known. 
There may be glimpses, but they will be as pleasant dreams ; 
there may be delightful views in times of unwonted clearness 
of vision, but they will be transient and imperfect — an earnest 
of the true, but not the blissful, reality. When 

" On the green and flowery mount 
Our weary souls shall sit, 
And with transporting joy recount, 
The labors of our feet," — 

when we look out with spirit eyes upon the transporting scene 
that is spread before us, — we shall, at least, be conscious that 
rivers of delight pour through the soul, and that crystal streams 
of pleasure are flowing on every side. 

" Jordan rolled between " the J ews and their inheritance : so 
we have a Jordan to pass, before we reach the " shining shore," 
and enter the heavenly Canaan — the Paradise of God. We 
stand and shrink to feel the threatening waves, calling the 
stream narrow, dark, and cold ; but why does not the view 
beyond make us willing — yea, even anxious — to plunge into 
the river, that we may sooner range the blessed country on the 
other side ? 

" Our Father's house " is in the New J erusalem ; rather it is 
the New Jerusalem itself. Is there no joy in this? Lone 
wanderers from broken households, sick at heart and heavy 
in spirit, what think ye of a Father's house? Is it not the 



286 



HEAVEN ETERNAL. 



heart-centre — the place where the sun shines brightest, birds 
sing sweetest, and flowers blossom fairest, the oasis in the 
world, the greenest spot on earth, the place where everything 
is best? In all the world there is no joy like that of going 
home, and no sorrow like that of having none to go to. 
When this comes, and homeless is the word that we see 
inscribed upon everything, is there no joy in thinking the 
" house " above is never closed, and the circle there is never 
broken? "I'm going home to my Father's house," said an 
aged Christian ; and the light that was kindled in his eye 
told the joy that was welling up in his soul at the prospect. 
How much was comprised, how much was anticipated ! Our 
Father's house ! O, blessed place ! Homeless Christian, you 
have a home above, " a house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens," where every good centres, and every pleasure 
reigns. 

"Be of good cheer," then ; the door is ajar, and the welcome 
is waiting. There is no discord in that loving household, for 
the Head is love, and the members have the same spirit. It 
is a peaceful dwelling, our Father's house. The house is 
in a city ; or the city itself is the house. It is a holy city, 
and therefore a pleasant and happy city. Those who walk 
the beautiful streets see nothing, hear nothing, to trouble and 
pain them. 

It is a "continuing city." Those of time vanish away, but 
permanence is stamped upon everything there. The founda- 
tions are sure, defying the touch of decay. The materials of 
the divine Builder are different from those employed by any 
other ; and the city which has sprung up under his hand is 
beautiful and glorious, far surpassing all human conception, 
according to the inspired record. There are no streets like 
those of the New Jerusalem. There are no mansions like those 
which tower in solemn grandeur on the heavenly heights. 
Everything in design and execution is perfect. But where 
is this place ? Where is the Christian's home — the New Je- 



LOCALITY OF HEAVEN. 



287 



rusalem ? The child thinks of it as " up above the bright blue 
sky," and the maturest mind knows no more. Each alike asks, 
Where is it ? The child-questionings concerning it are always 
touching and beautiful. 

" I hear thee speak of the better land; 
Thou eall'st its children a happy band. 
Mother, 0, where is that radiant shore ? 
Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ? 
Is it where the flower of the orange blows ? 
And the fireflies dance through the myrtle boughs ? 
Not there, not there, my child ! 

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? 
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, 
And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings, 
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? 
Not there, not there, my child ! 

" Is it far away, in some region old, 
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? 
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand, — 
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land? 
Not there, not there, my child ! 

"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy; 
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; 
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair : 
Sorrow and death do not enter there ; 
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom : 
Far beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, 
It is there, it is there, my child ! " 

The precise location of the heavenly world is not fully re- 
vealed, nor is it necessary that it should be. Is it not enough 
to know that it is a state of safety — of eternal blessedness ? 
Is it not enough for the Christian to know that he will ever be 
with the Lord, in intimate and holy communion, wanting 
nothing — with " every longing satisfied ? " It is certain that 
revelation is all-sufficient ; but speculative minds will draw in- 



288 



APOSTLE JOHN'S VISION OF HEAVEN. 



ferences from Scripture representations, honestly and candidly, 
it may be, but variously, according to the peculiar character 
of individual thought. John "saw the holy city, the New 
Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as 
a bride adorned for her husband." A delicate figure ; but the 
widely differing interpretations of the passage only deepen the 
mystery of its meaning. One sees in it the perfect purity and 
heavenly origin of the celestial sphere. He beholds its un- 
fading beauty, which makes it an "eternal excellency, a 
glory ; " but its " coming down " only denotes its emanation 
from the Divine Hand. Another observes unequivocal indica- 
tions that it refers to the ultimate establishment of a material 
heaven on this material earth ; while still another applies it to 
the church militant in its passage to the triumphant. We 
place no stamp of right on either or any of these conclusions, 
for we know not the place where it is due. There may be 
doubt and perplexity upon minor points ; but the delightful con- 
sideration is unshaken, that somewhere in God's realm there is 
a place of residence for the just — "a world purified from 
physical and moral evil, and fitted to the renovated faculties of 
the redeemed." 

There are many suppositions as to its locality, some of which 
we shall notice ; but of none can we confidently affirm that it 
accords with the divine plan. It is thought by many that this 
orb, which we at present inhabit, is to be the theatre of final 
action ; that "the new heavens and the new earth," wherein the 
righteous shall dwell, will be formed from this world, which 
is to be new-modelled, coming forth from the last general 
conflagration entirely renovated, and expressly fitted for the 
abode of saints. 

Says one of our own writers, Dr. Hitchcock, in his "Religion 
and Geology," " The prevailing opinion in this country, proba- 
bly, has been, and still is, that the destruction of the world de- 
scribed by Peter will amount to annihilation — that the matter 
of the globe will cease to be. But in all ages there have 



PRESIDENT HITCUCOCEjS OPINION. 



289 



been many who believed that the destruction will be only the 
ruin of the present economy of the world, but not its utter 
extinction. And surely Peter's description does not imply an- 
nihilation of the matter of the globe. He makes fire the agent 
of destruction, and, in order to ascertain the extent of the ruin 
that will follow, we have only to inquire what effect combus- 
tion will have upon matter. The common opinion is, that 
intense combustion actually destroys or annihilates matter, 
because it is thereby dissipated. But the chemist knows that no 
one particle of matter has ever been thus deprived of existence ; 
that fire only changes the form of matter, but never annihilates 
it. When solid matter is changed into gas, as in most cases 
of combustion, it seems to be annihilated, because it disap- 
pears ; but it has only assumed a new form, and exists as 
really as before. 

" Since, therefore, biblical and scientific truth must agree, 
we may be sure that the apostle never meant to teach that the 
matter of the globe would cease to be, through the action of 
fire upon it ; nor is there anything in his language that implies 
such a result, but most obviously the reverse." 

Further, he says that Peter, after describing the day of the 
Lord, "wherein the heavens, being on fire, shall be dissolved, 
and the elements shall melt with fervent heat," adds, "Never- 
theless, we, according to his promise, look for a new heavens 
and a new -earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." "Now, the 
apostle does not here, in so many words, declare that the new 
heavens and earth will be the present world and its atmosphere, 
purified and renovated by fire. But it is certainly a natural 
inference that such was his meaning. For if he intended some 
other remote and quite different place, why should he call it 
earth, and especially why should he surround it with an 
atmosphere? The natural and most obvious meaning of the 
passage surely is, that the future residence of the righteous 
will be this present, terraqueous globe, after its entire organic 
and combustible matter shall have been destroyed, and its whole 
19 



290 



DIR. GRIFFIN'S OPINION". 



mass reduced by heat to a liquid state, and then anew economy 
reared upon its surface, not adapted to sinful but to sinless 
beings, and therefore quite different from its present condi- 
tion — probably more perfect, but still the same earth and 
surrounding heavens." 

Says Dr. Griffin, "A question arises whether the new heavens 
and new earth will be created out of the ruins of the old ; that 
is, whether the old will be renovated and restored in a more 
glorious form ; or whether the old will be annihilated, and the 
new made out of nothing. The idea of the annihilation of so 
many immense and glorious bodies, organized with inimitable 
skill, and declarative of infinite wisdom, is gloomy and forbid- 
ding. Indeed, it is scarcely credible that God should annihi- 
late any of his works, much less so many and so glorious 
works. It ought not to be believed without the most decisive 
proof. On the other hand, it is a most animating thought that 
this visible creation which sin has marred, which the polluted 
breath of men and devils has defiled, and which by sin will be 
reduced to utter ruin, will be restored by our Jesus, will arise 
from its ruins in tenfold splendor, and shine with more illus- 
trious glory than before it was defaced by sin. 

"After a laborious and anxious search for light on this in- 
teresting subject, I must pronounce the latter to be my decided 
opinion. And the same, I find, has been the more common 
opinion of the Christian fathers, of the divines of the Refor- 
mation, and of the critics and annotators who have since flour- 
ished. I could produce on this side a catalogue of names 
which would convince you that this has certainly been the com- 
mon opinion of the Christian church in every age, as it was also 
of the Jewish." 

This exposition of the words of Peter is defended by many 
in the past and present — by Chrysostom, Augustine, Luther, 
and Wesley, who gives a glowing description of the changes 
which will take place in the heaven, or the atmosphere about 
the earth ; and he proceeds to say, " Let us take a view of those 



DR. GRIFFIN'S OPINION. 



291 



changes which we may reasonably suppose will then take place 
in the earth. It will no more be bound up with intense cold, 
nor parched up with extreme heat, but will have such a tem- 
perature as will be most conducive to its fruitfulness. If, in 
order to punish its inhabitants, God did of old 

' Bid his angels turn askance 
This oblique globe,' — 

thereby occasioning violent cold on one part, and violent heat 
on the other, he will, undoubtedly, then order them to restore 
it to its original position ; so that there will be a final end, on 
the one hand, of the burning heat, which makes some parts of 
it scarce habitable, and on the other of 

1 The rage of Arctos and eternal frost.' 

And it will then contain no jarring or destructive principles 
within its own bosom. It will no more have any of those vio- 
lent convulsions in its own bowels. It will no more be shaken 
or torn asunder by the impetuous force of earthquakes, and 
will, therefore, need neither Vesuvius nor Etna, nor any burn- 
ing mountains to prevent them. There will be no more horrid 
rocks, or frightful precipices ; no wild deserts, or barren sands ; 
no impassable morasses or unfruitful bogs to swallow up the 
unwary traveller. There will, doubtless, be inequalities on the 
surface of the earth, which are not blemishes, but beauties ; 
there will be everything that can be conducive, in any wise, 
either to use or pleasure — - how far beyond all that the most 
lively imagination is able to conceive, for the earth shall be 
a more beautiful Paradise than Adam ever saw ! " 

We might adduce still more authority in support of this 
theory ; but we turn to the brief consideration of other views 
which have their adherents, though, it maybe, not as numerous. 
Some imagine that among the multiplied globes that now exist 
in the mighty regions of space, there is some one peculiar and 
favored, which may be allotted as the permanent and blissful 
habitation of the just, where above and beyond all contact with 



292 



BIBLICAL REPRESENTATION. 



the material, their spirits will dwell securely and at rest. Thith- 
er they are transported when done with the duties and discipline 
of the present, there to remain forever. 

Some think a new globe or world will be created, peculiarly 
adapted to the circumstances of redeemed men, that will be 
furnished with such munificent beauty, and show such remark- 
able displays of the divine love and wisdom, that the renovated 
powers of the ransomed will find ample occasion for their fullest 
exercise, through an endless eternity. 

Others allow a wider scope, granting the heavenly inhabit- 
ants power to transport themselves from one world to another, 
thus discarding permanent locality, and introducing the soul 
successively to new regions, according to the rapidity with which 
it exhausts their riches and glory. Whichever or whatever 
supposition we may adopt, it is conceded that "the general 
laws which now govern the universe, and the general relations 
of the great bodies in the universe to each other, will remain, on 
the whole, unchanged, unless we adopt the unreasonable and 
extravagant supposition, that the whole frame of Jehovah's 
empire will be unhinged and overturned, for the sake of our 
world, which, when compared with the whole system of Nature, 
is but an indistinguishable atom amidst the immensity of God's 
works." To quote once more from the author of "Religion and 
Geology," " The wide-spread opinion that heaven will be a sort 
of airy Elysium, where the present laws of Nature will be un- 
known, and where matter, if it exist, can exist only in its most 
attenuated form, is a notion to which the Bible is a stranger." 

But whatever or wherever the New Jerusalem may be, every 
believer in revelation knows that it is all the most exacting can 
desire. In reality, it may not coincide with any views which 
mortals may take ; but we know it is blessed and glorious. We 
look through the glass polished by the inspired workmen, and 
we have glimpses of shining turrets and lofty battlements, that 
intimate what a nearer vision might disclose. It is declared to 
be a happy land, " an abiding city ; " and abiding happiness is 



TEE JOY AND GLORY OF EE AVE N. 



293 



our hio'hest ideal of £Ood. There are few but what covet an 
entrance into this heavenly Jerusalem, " the city of the living 
God; " and Jesus, the "King of saints," stands ready to give a 
title to the inheritance unto all who are truly desirous of gaining 
the possession, and who are ready to observe the conditions he 
has instituted. Many have walked the humblest vales of 
poverty all their lives long, incurring hardship and persecution, 
and yet have been happy and exultant, because of the prospect 
of dwelling at last in the peaceful city of God. 

How many of the sons and daughters of affliction have felt 
their burdens lightened, by heaven-born hopes of a final and 
joyous release from all in the bright clime of the blest ! 

How many sorrowing and bereaved ones have dried their 
tears, and comforted themselves with the thought of glad re- 
unions in the tearless land above, and how many homeless ones 
have withheld their sighs at sight of that better home within 
the gates of the New Jerusalem ! Well might the pious soul 
exclaim, — 

" 0 world of bliss, could mortal eyes, 
But half thy charms explore, 
How would our spirits long to rise, 
And dwell on earth no more ! " 

Surely it may be written, Blessed are the inhabitants of the 
New Jerusalem ; blessed are all they who find heaven, "for they 
shall go no more out forever." 



294 



NATURAL IDEAS OF PLACE. 



CHAPTEE XVIII. 

HEAVEN AS A PLACE. 

Natural Ideas associated with Place. — Analogies. — Christ's Teachings. — 
Spiritual Discernment. — Jewish Faith. — Soul's Constitution demands 
Place. — Opinions of Uarbaugh. — Bliss of Heaven sufficient to satisfy 
the Soul's utmost Demands. 

There is a land of pure delight, 

Where saints immortal reign ; 
Eternal day excludes the night, 

And pleasures banish pain." — Watts. 

All the bright visions of childhood with regard to heaven are 
of a beautiful place. Everything that is fair and lovely is 
associated with it, and the childish imagination sees the infantile 
soul that passes away, revelling in scenes of the happy land 
where the good dwell. But the thought of a better place has 
entered into the conceptions of maturer years perhaps more 
frequently ; but there are those who would allow the celestial 
inheritance no "local habitation," who would have the signifi- 
cance of heaven to rest merely upon condition or state. Heaven 
is in the soul, a germ that is to expand into full flower, the 
perfection of which is to constitute infinite blessing ; life and 
its discipline emerging into a peaceful, satisfying state, where 
the soul may repose, and where, like the flower's fragrance on 
the breath of summer morn, it may yield its grateful tribute to 
Him who formed it. 

We notice some considerations in regard to both place and 
state ; but, as we have said before, no merely human conception 
is at all adequate for the full understanding or appreciation of 
heaven. This is reserved for the ransomed spirit to experience 



ANALOGIES IN NATURE. 



295 



when it is disrobed of mortality, and sees as it is seen, and 
knows as it is known. If we call heaven a place, and are sum- 
moned to answer to its characteristics, we reply, we cannot do 
so ; but because the finite fails to tell the modes of the infinite, 
does not prove that heaven is not a place. We have never seen 
a daguerrotype of heaven, so that we can describe its peculiar 
features. The great Photographer has traced clear and fadeless 
outlines, but the filling up remains unfinished. Another spring 
must be touched, and another side of the case opened, before we 
can look upon the complete picture in all its perfectness and 
beauty — before we can see the wondrous glory and dignity of 
heavenly expression. 

We cannot tell the actual scenery of heaven. We talk of 
heavenly hills, peaceful vales, of flowers, fruits, and streams ; 
but we cannot tell aught of one or the other, save that they glide 
into our thoughts, and nestle down in the place of anticipation, 
as among the things that are to be realized, in the day of heav- 
enly revelation, to every soul that has a passport to the celestial 
land. We find delightful images in the Bible, and we are of 
necessity influenced much by analogies and hints that nature 
furnishes, so that we invariably find ourselves transferring what- 
ever is fair and whatever we love below to the place above. 
"Analogies lie in wait at every angle, at every turning of the 
road, reclining on mossy banks, sporting in running streams, 
sailing on radiant clouds. Every object offers wings to a fairer 
land. There are days in every year in which the thoughtful 
soul is conscious of a fulness of being. The faculties are quick- 
ened into supernatural life. The sky then wears a purer, clearer, 
deeper blue ; the clouds soar to a loftier height. They are no 
longer vapors exhaled from earth, but flakes of beauty let loose 
from heaven* 

There is music in the air, music in the soul, unwritten, un- 
articulated too, but the heart is filled with it. Not iEolian 
strains alone, which, beautiful as they are, are often, like 
generalizations, too broad to touch the chords of human hearts, 



296 



ANALOGIES IN NATURE. 



but also home-like variations on every cherished memory, and 
hallowed " tones of soul, gathered by the great Master into a 
grand concert of all harmonious things." What Christian has 
not had hours like these, when he has felt like "singing himself 
away to everlasting bliss ; " when light has fallen upon the 
features of his heavenly home, and he has discovered a glory 
that was unutterable? He has stood, as it were, by the gates 
of the holy city, and heard the sweet-toned melody of angel 
bands — the chorus of the redeemed, until he has himself 
longed to join " the harpers," and send forth a jubilant anthem 
to the praise of Him who gloriously redeems ; who hath pre- 
pared his throne in the heavens, and gathered around it a 
blessed company, who know nothing but joy and love. He 
looks around in the world he inhabits, and everything speaks 
of God. He sees how, here and there, he has touched with his 
finger and brought forth forms of inimitable beauty, and he 
has said within himself, — 

" If God has made this world so fair, 
Where sin and death ahound, 
How beautiful beyond compare 
Will Paradise be found ! " 

If this earth, which is the abode of fallen, apostate man, — 
a universal scene of moral depravity, — if this present a 
beautiful and variegated prospect "of lofty mountains, ro- 
mantic dells, and fertile plains ; meandering rivers, transparent 
lakes, and spacious oceans ; verdant landscapes, adorned with 
fruits and flowers, and a rich variety of the finest colors, and 
a thousand other beauties and sublimities that are strewed over 
the face of nature, — how grand and magnificent a scenery 
may we suppose must be presented to the view in that world 
where moral evil has never entered to derange the harmony of 
the Creator's works, — where love to the Supreme, and to one 
another, fires the bosom of all the inhabitants, producing a 
rapturous exultation, and an incessant adoration of the Source 
of happiness ! " 



SCENERY OF TEE BETTER LAND. 



297 



We may justly conclude that the scenery of such a world 
must be inconceivably beautiful, — grand of itself, but, in a 
peculiar sense, fair to the soul, by reason of its purified vision, 
and that it is characterized by infinite diversity ; so that there 
will be no weariness in the gaze, though it be prolonged 
through ages that are eternal. We shall then be living under 
a different economy from that we know now. There must be 
an entire change, it is very evident. If there be a material 
heaven and a material economy, the governing laws must 
indeed be different, at least so far as to prevent accident and 
dis-harmony. Now, with our present organization, the ele- 
ments are oftentimes hostile to man ; but there it is expressly 
declared that " nothing shall hurt nor destroy in all the holy 
mountain ; " that " there shall be no more sea," or sun, and 
yet all shall be very fresh and very bright. Says one, in 
speaking of the endless variety of scenery in the heavenly 
place, "How this can be without those changes which now 
are inseparable from decay, we are unable to conceive. If 
there be no decay, how can there be a renewal of vegetation ? 
And if no renewal of vegetation, apparently there can be no 
succession of the seasons. And as our present enjoyment, and 
even our life itself, are completely formed upon the succession 
of the seasons, it becomes entirely plain that there must be a 
change so radical and so entire as to baffle all attempts to 
grasp the actual future." 

Doubtless this is so. Heaven transcends all imagination. 
Whatever it be, it is God's creation, and as far as God exceeds 
our poor comprehension, so far does the prepared place exceed 
our highest thought. We have enough to establish a perfect 
conviction of its reality. This unquestionable design is re- 
vealed in the gorgeous description of John, when the appeal is 
made to everything that is within us which responds to the love 
of "form, color, order, and architecture." 

" I do not in the least doubt," says the author last quoted, 
" that heaven is, to ail intents and for all our needs, a place ; 



298 



CHRIST'S PLEDGE. 



but I cannot name the properties which constitute it such, nor 
is there any occasion to do so. To my apprehension, it is 
enough to conceive of it as meeting the uses of the heavenly 
life as perfectly, and even more perfectly, than place now 
meets the. uses of this present life." 

Says another, in his attempts to harmonize Scripture and 
astronomy with regard to this subject, "Heaven is a place, 
and not merely a state ; it has locality, and is material. We 
have found, not only that the existence of an outward heavenly 
place is possible, but also that the deepest investigations of 
science make it quite probable, and render it entirely unneces- 
sary for us to evaporate into mythological mist-images the 
bright heaven of the Bible, with the view of harmonizing the 
discoveries of astronomy and the teachings of faith. The 
Holiest Place — the Salem of peace and rest, — ■ we have not 
seen ; but we have seen golden festal lamps hung out on high ; 
our eyes have traced bright avenues stretching in long per- 
spective toward a place which eye hath not seen ; we have 
discovered bright points, as it were minarets, of a celestial 
city, blaze high up in the realms of eternal sunshine ; we have 
heard harmonies as if from happy worshipping worlds afar ; 
and the aspirations of our longing hearts have gazed earnestly 
and hopefully into regions of changeless, pure, peaceful, and 
everlasting rest. If this is not the home of our sainted friends, 
we are still not sad ; for we know that then it is one brighter, 
holier, lovelier, and better still. Yet " tell not the pilgrim, 
who is journeying through the dark night, that those tents 
afar, from which such a friendly light shines invitingly toward 
him, are empty, tenantless, and cold ! " 

When Christ was about to go away from his disciples, he 
comforted their mourning hearts by saying, " I go to prepare 
a place for you." In that place are " many mansions," says the 
Saviour, and those mansions are to be the home for saints of all 
ages, " not for these alone" whom he addresses, but for them also 
which shall believe on him. This assurance has sent a thrill of 



NEED OF SPIRITUAL DISCERNMENT. 299 



joy through myriad hearts since the days when Jesus traversed 
the hills of Judea, teaching these things of the kingdom ; and 
multitudes have departed this life with great joy, having seen 
" the heavens opened, and Jesus standing at the right hand of 
God," ready to receive them, and introduce them to the prom- 
ised rest. They went, expecting a better place, " where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest," 
where they shall dwell in peace and know no sin. And yet 
there are those who tell us that these expectations are not based 
upon the Bible ; that all these descriptions of heaven are fig- 
urative ; that they are a necessity of speech for our dull appre- 
hension ; that our comprehension is so feeble that we must have 
to do with the external and the tangible, and therefore it is 
that heaven is thus presented. 

Our apprehensions are dull, and our comprehension is lim- 
ited ; but know we not such a thing as spiritual discernment ? 
The commonest matters of Christian experience are hidden 
things, until the scales of carnality are removed, and our minds 
are illuminated by the Holy Spirit. 

What was dim and mysterious before is clear and simple 
afterward. What existed before in faint outline now takes on 
a form of beautiful and well-defined proportion. It is not that 
the things themselves are changed, but there is a penetrating, 
spiritual vision, that discerns differently. Doubtless there is 
much that is figurative in the Bible descriptions of heaven ; 
the gorgeous symbols pertaining to it are only caskets ; but 
to these has not the humble, faithful Christian a divinely- 
intrusted key, by which he unlocks the gateway to the eternal, 
discovering what none others see ? There is a God-given dis- 
cernment which reveals things to the soul clearly ; and what is 
plain to one thus blessed is dark and never understood by 
another that believes it not. What we need is, a clear eye of 
faith — a purified, spiritual vision — to know, and understand, 
and appreciate the Christian's heaven — the place which God 
hath prepared for those who love him. We need " a heart in 



V 



300 EMBLEMS INTERPRETED BY FAITH. 

full and earnest sympathy with the powers of the world to 
come — a heart whose faith will annihilate time, space, and 
death, and summon the substance of things hoped for right 
round it." 

Then will the reality of heaven come home to the waiting 
soul, and amid the types, figures, and shadows will be delight- 
fully embosomed the placid region of undisturbed rest, to which 
it is steadily and surely tending. Such a one perceives the 
new and coming economy, and rejoices that he himself is the 
subject of one so perfect. He has spiritual discernment ; and 
sayings which to some are dark and dead, or at best but uncer- 
tain sound, are to him " voices from a better land, which pour 
their rich and refreshing melody into his heart." To the pious 
Jew, under the ancient dispensation, the ceremonial obser- 
vances were a prefiguration of good things to come, while the 
unbeliever saw only a tedious and meaningless round of dull 
performance. To the one the blood that flowed at the foot of 
the altar was replete with life-giving properties, while to the 
other it was but the ordinary shedding of the blood of an in- 
different creature. In the great day of atonement, the one 
saw no significance in the slain lamb, while the other looked 
down the long vista of years, and beheld the meek and uncom- 
plaining Sufferer of Calvary, that sin-atoning Lamb, which, 
"once for all," was to die for the sins of the people, rendering 
no other sacrifice necessary, forever abolishing the ceremonial 
in " the new and living way " appointed. It was the eye of 
faith that saw these " rainbows of promise " in that sombre and 
cloud-cast sky ; that beheld the Divine Wisdom revealed in 
those dim symbols. So by this same source are we to 
obtain glimpses of the promised land. Moses heard of 
Canaan. He thought of it, he sought it, and from the mount 
he looked out upon it. The Bible tells us of heaven, and 
it gives us many Pisgah heights, from which we may look 
over the fair heritage of the saints — a view which has led 
many to exclaim, "I am now ready to be offered ; " " Now let- 



OPINION OF EARBAUGH. 



301 



test thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen 
thy salvation." 

" O Canaan, bright Canaan, my soul still pants for thee." 

However strong faith may be, there is nevertheless an idea 
of a local, material, tangible heaven associated with all the 
views and inquiries of the Christian. When he thinks of 
heaven, he thinks of a place, and in his own mind invests it 
with everything that enters into his conceptions of a holy place. 
When he hopes for heaven, it is for a place that is exempt from 
the changes and the sin incident to mortal life. This, indeed, 
is not inconsistent with state, and we are wont to speak of a 
heavenly state, characterized by this blessed exemption ; but 
at the same time place is, as it were, the substratum of our 
thoughts and hopes. 

In following out these considerations further, we avail our- 
selves of the opinions of Harbaugh, as expressed in his 
" Sainted Dead." 

"A strong presumptive evidence for the locality of heaven," 
he says, "is furnished by enlightened reason. The soul is 
constitutionally interwoven with an external world throughout 
all its mundane history. The mind or spirit develops itself in 
this connection, and in its very texture it is intertwined with 
the forms of time and space. It rests, if not necessarily 
(though this, I think — not, however, in a materialistic sense 
— might be confidently affirmed), yet by a powerful habit, 
upon matter ; and this habit is not an incidental state, but it is 
the only state of existence with which the soul was acquainted 
from the first dawn of its consciousness. To tear the spirit 
suddenly loose, at death, from these relations to an external 
world, and place it in a state completely and forever isolated 
from all matter, where it would find no opportunity to exercise 
these faculties, would be subjecting it to a terrible violence — 
a violence which would destroy its personal identity. 

" The faculties of the soul are necessarily dependent, for a 
healthful exercise of their energies, upon an external world. 



302 



REASON DEMANDS A LOCAL HEAVEN. 



A moment's reflection will convince us of this. Reason steps 
from one deduction to another, by the aid of analogies which 
it finds in the world without, so that it is dependent on the 
external world for the exercise of its strength. The mind, in 
reasoning, cannot divest itself of analogies. Imagination must 
have a real world in which to range ; the material with which 
it builds it gets from the material world. All it can do is to 
combine ; it cannot create. Memory must find a backward 
track through time and space, or it is dead. All these faculties 
are supplied with materials to keep them in life and vigor, 
through the senses, from an external world. Shall these fac- 
ulties be cut off from their sources and conditions, and die? 
No, reason must exist in the future life, to approve the dealings 
of God with the soul, and to adjudge him praise for his good- 
ness. Memory must wander back to earth, to remind the soul 
forever of its obligations to the Saviour who redeemed it from 
the sink of sin ; and when it does travel back, imagination 
must be the wing to bear it." So much in connection with 
reason, in anticipation of the place of the saints. We say not 
that it is impossible but that a change may be wrought so entire 
and effectual that there will remain no necessity, no room, for 
this external dependence. "All things are possible with God." 
There is no limit to his power, and doubtless he might exercise 
it in a way that he never will. We cannot tell ; we only say 
that it is easier and better for us to dwell upon probabilities, 
as supported by reason and Scripture, than to speculate upon 
possibilities, which have their origin in our own minds, and 
consequently are very doubtful things. 

" Where I am ye shall be also," says Christ ; and this where 
may indicate a place. " It could not be a suitable place for the 
saints, if it were not a local, material heaven. The saints will 
have bodies. Pure spirits, for aught we know, exist differently ; 
but the saints, having bodies, must have a material dwelling- 
place, because they are material. Can the abode of these 
bodies be less tangible than the bodies themselves ? Certainly 



HEAVEN, LIKE EDEN, A PLACE. 



303 



not. They cannot be suspended in air or float in space eter- 
nally. Though the bodies of the saints will be, in some 
respects, no doubt, greatly changed, — for 'we shall all be 
changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the 
last trump/ — and they will be spiritualized in a way now 
unknown to us, yet they will be bodies still. ? There is a 
spiritual body.' Job felt confident that he should, in his 
flesh, see God. A human being consists of soul and body, 
the one material and the other immaterial ; these two united 
make the man, and they must therefore be united again in the 
future world, if the man is to retain his nature. The body 
will be raised, and become a sharer with the spirit in the 
blessed gift of immortality. Whatever will be the refinement 
of this immortal man, — though raised in honor, in power, in 
incorruption, in spirituality, yet he has a body, and must there- 
fore have a local platform, a physical substratum, for his future 
habitation." 

In the language of another, " According to the New Testa- 
ment, man will possess a body even in the future life, and con- 
tinue to be, as he now is, a being composed of both sense and 
reason; and so there, as well as here, he will have the want 
of something cognizable by the senses. We look, therefore, 
'fpr a house, a home, a heavenly paternal home, a peopled 
residence, a real habitation, where we shall know one another, 
and be with one another upon terms of the most intimate 
friendship and the dearest fellowship." 

The earthly Paradise was a place. There was no sin there. - 
God prepared and furnished it according to his own pattern, 
and placed the happy and innocent pair in the midst of fruits 
and flowers, and beautiful scenery, where the sweet echoes of 
their own voices were full of pleasure, and undefaced beauty 
smiled upon everything. If God prepared a place like this for 
his innocent ones on earth, may he not also do likewise for the 
ransomed ones, in bringing them to the heavenly Paradise, and 
showing them richer landscapes and more delightful scenery 



304 TEE PURITY OF PARADISE. 



than even Eden afforded ? The earthly is the type of the heav- 
enly, " and it must needs be that the pattern of heavenly things 
on earth should have some similarity to their substance in 
heaven."' 

Like, and yet how unlike! The sun shone upon Eden, but 
the Paradise above is sunless, and yet inconceivably bright. 
The evening and the morning were known in the garden where 
Adam and Eve dwelt, and day and night alternated as now ; 
but there will be no night and. no darkness in heaven. Better 
than all, the tempter will never be there to lure with his en- 
ticing words, and the fair heritage will never be blighted with 
sin. It is a guarded place, a holy place, and " nothing that 
defileth " shall ever enter in ; so that, through all the blessed 
region, there shall be nothing but beauty and harmony, noth- 
ing but peace, and perfect love. The pearly gates never open 
to receive any but the pure and the good, and the mansions 
are never inhabited save by the loyal subjects of the heavenly 
King ; so that delightful tranquillity pervades the whole realm, 
and the most perfect sympathy is always and forever manifest. 
The emotions which incite one to bow before the great white 
throne, in adoring gratitude, are the same that move the 
mighty multitude to shout the praises of the Lamb. 

How blessed a thought that there is one place, one world, 
where order, harmony, and sympathy are perfect ; where there 
are no differences and contentions, no jarrings and confusion ! 

" No rude alarms of raging foes, 
No cares to break the long repose, 
No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
But sacred, high, eternal noon." 

For such a place how natural to suppose a careful preparation 
would be needed, and that every one would be solicitous to 
make it ! Well might Jesus exclaim, "What shall it profit a 
man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? " 
To lose the soul is to lose heaven, and to lose heaven is to lose 
God, and everything that is most valuable and dear. Earth 



GARDEN OF >THE LORD. 



305 



and time will pass away, and the place that now knows us will 
soon know us no more ; but we know that Jesus hath prepared 
a place, for he has told us ; and we know that it is one of infi- 
nite blessedness, for he has told us this also ; and, moreover, that 
it is accessible to all. It is, and yet it is not, an exclusive 
place. All may enter if they will ; and yet they will not, 
because they refuse to observe the conditions by which it is 
gained. 

Just without a certain city is a beautiful and extensive flower 
garden. The walks are laid out with scrupulous exactness, 
and the borders are tended with the nicest care. Eich and 
rare flowers may be seen, and plants of the choicest variety, 
among which is a murmuring fountain, making soft, sweet 
music, which, together with the beauty clustering around, 
render it a very attractive place. The gardener holds the key, 
and is pleased to admit those who come to admire and appre- 
ciate his efforts, while he persistently refuses entrance to those 
who have evidently other motives in view. And we call this 
just, and it is. He values his labor and its results, and it is 
right that he should. He cares for his " vineyard," and it is a 
wise prudence that he shows. 

God values heaven, for it has cost him much. He has been 
at infinite pains to prepare the celestial garden, and who can 
say that he has not a right to hold the key — a perfect right to 
admit or exclude, according as he sees a fitness or unfitness? 
He does welcome those who come to appreciate what he has 
done, and he shows them all his richest and rarest things, and 
how so much beauty and perfection were gained. 

O, who can tell the beauty of the garden of the Lord — the 
trees of righteousness which his hand hath planted ? Who can 
tell what it will be to stand in the shadow of the " tree of 
life," and look out upon the fair borders of Paradise — to 
stretch forth the hand and pluck the life-giving fruit, which 
sends a grateful sensation through the whole refined and spir- 
itual being ? 

20 



806 



♦ 

PREPARATION FOR HEAVEN. 



Whatever heaven may be, we know it is rich in every- 
thing that can gladden and bless the soul. "Measureless 
affluence" is written upon everything that it contains, and 
upon every joy that thrills the beatified spirit there is traced, 
in fadeless characters, " forever and ever." There exists the 
freshness of immortality, and happiness is a perpetual stream ; 
but we need other dialect than that we know to speak the ful- 
ness of heavenly blessing. 

To win it is the work of life ; and who would count it dear, 
although a lifetime of suffering be the price to be paid for it ? 
It has been said that 

" The path of sorrow, and that path alone," 

will lead to the blest abode ; and who would not be willing to 
wade these dark seas, if the goodly prospect is only thus 
reached? We may shrink at " the waves and the billows," but 
a little farther on and there is " no more sea," and no more 
sorrow. " Heaven's long age of bliss shall pay " for all God's 
children will suffer here. It will fully compensate for all ex- 
perience of woe in the mortal life. When we dwell, happy 
saints, — 

" High in yonder realms of light," — 

it will be enough to feel that our place is where God is, and 
that our heaven will always be in his presence. We shall stay 
where he bids us stay, with infinite delight ; go where he bids 
us go, with joyful steps, and engage in whatever he calls us to 
with inexpressible satisfaction, for we shall be willing subjects 
of the heavenly King, and serve him continually, with an 
interest ever fresh and ever new. 

"All hail! ye fair, celestial shores, 
Ye lands of endless day ; 
Swift on my view your prospect pours, 
And drives my griefs away." 



TWO IDEAS OF HEAVEN. 



307 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HEAVEN AS A STATE. 

Man never satisfied with Revelation. — Platonic Notion. — Senses the 
natural Channel of Activity. — Heart-sentiments superior to Place. — 
Illustrations drawn from Blind and Deaf. — Poet Imagery. — Heaven to 
be sought. 

11 And what if much be still unknown? 
The Lord shall teach us that, 
When we shall stand before his throne, 
Or sit as Mary sat. 

" Wait till he shall himself disclose 
Things now beyond our reach, 
Nor list to those who e'er profess 
God's secret ways to teach." — Hind. 

The Bible-revealed heaven is a blessed object of hope to all 
Christian pilgrims who are conscious of nearing the height of im- 
mortality, and are anxious to exchange their dusty and sin- 
stained robes for the peculiar drapery of those who walk there. 
But, notwithstanding all allusions and descriptions, mankind 
are not yet quite satisfied with revelation. They do not know 
whether heaven is a place or a state, and they speculate upon the 
likelihood of one and the probabilities of the other : but, after all, 
they must leave the subject where they found it, and wait " until 
He himself shall disclose," meantime comforting themselves 
with the assurance that his own shall eventually behold his 
glory, where he is. 

We glance, however, at some of the considerations by which 
those are influenced who deny the locality of a material heaven, 
and maintain that it is simply a state, having no reference to 
time and place, — as we are accustomed to speak of a state of 



308 



PLATONIC VIEW OF HEAVEN. 



freedom or the contrary. Feeling and enjoyment are retained, 
and somehow these are fed, ministered unto, and the source of 
supply constitutes heaven. It may be, indeed, the impalpable 
something of an exquisite joy ; but when we come to definite- 
ness, to a basis, we feel all things, as it were, retiring, shrink- 
ing away before the intangible being; "Faith, the substance 
of things hoped for," becomes shadowy, and the spirit-realm 
so abstract, so entirely disconnected with all which mind at 
present grasps, that an idea of it can scarcely be formed. 

Upon this ground, the materialist and the rationalist are 
wont to tread, and here and there are eminences upon which 
reason climbs to look out upon the ethereal region. From 
these points, and from such data as reason furnishes, they tell us 
of " that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller 
returns." If from want of clear spiritual perception they fail 
to see the distinct outline of a heavenly country, they theorize 
upon matter and spirit, and finally settle down with a heaven 
of their own, introducing or excluding the material, as best suits 
their ideas. There may be the recognition of a certain sort of 
spiritual element with some, but in most cases everything is so 
entirely separated from all which is tangible to the senses, that 
mystery is doubly written upon its front. 

At one period of history, and under the influence and teach- 
ings of a leading mind, it came to be considered that matter is 
essentially evil, and that the highest good of which man is capa- 
ble is to be removed from any and every connection with it. To 
be rid once and forever of the fetters and entanglements of the 
flesh was thought the supreme good, and that thereafter the spirit 
was to be no more subject to such thraldom. True, there will 
be no such thing as bondage in heaven. Let destiny assume 
what form it may, there will be the most delightful freedom ; and 
to insure this, who shall say that the spirit must necessarily be 
shut off from all connection with the external and the material ? 
Do we not know that the latter may exist, "more refined in its 
constitution, more delicate in its combinations, and consequently 



SENSES THE CHANNELS OF ACTIVITY. 



309 



more beautiful and glorious in its construction and appearance," 
than anything of which we have now any conception, and 
instead of being a hinderance, become a most essential aid in the 
guidance of the spirit in its future and heavenly course ? 

God has been pleased to institute the fine senses as the 
medium through which the spirit communicates with the ex- 
ternal world, during its season of discipline and development 
upon earth. These are the channels through which are con- 
veyed all that interests and influences it, and hence the activity 
by which the uniform habits of the mind are directed and con- 
trolled. It becomes accustomed to act in this way. There is 
no other way for it to act, and if these avenues are to be closed 
at death, or after the departure of the spirit from this world, 
if there is to be a final cessation of these things, it follows there 
must be a new creation, a new mental constitution, in order to 
secure adaptation to the new sphere — fitness for a new method. 

But so far as we know, there is not the shadow of a reason for 
us to suppose that death works any change upon the mental 
constitution. Reason, memory, imagination, and all the divine- 
ly wrought faculties of the soul, there is reason to believe, far 
outlast the fleeting breath. The "rich man" remembered and 
felt in the abode to which he found himself transported when he 
left earth and time. He saw and reasoned, and gave utterance 
to his thoughts and desires. " To tear the spirit suddenly loose, 
at death," says Harbaugh, "from these relations to an external 
world, and place it in a state completely, and for ever, isolated 
from all matter, where it would find no opportunity to exercise 
these faculties, would be subjecting it to a terrible violence — 
a violence which would destroy its personal identity." 

But to proceed to other considerations employed by those who 
think that heaven is a condition, we find that which we term 
absent-mindedness to be used as proof of such a belief ; that this 
shows how one may be in a life superior to, and independent of, 
mere locality. 

One may be so entirely engrossed in things above him, or at 



310 



LIFE INDEPENDENT OF TEE BODY. 



a distance from him, as to be utterly indifferent, yea, quite 
regardless of anything about him ; so that, for the time being, 
he is living away as really among the scenes he imagines as if 
his surroundings were visibly different, corresponding with 
those in his mind's eye. 

The life is independent of the body. The thoughts and 
affections are wandering where they choose, unconfined by 
physical boundaries ; and if any one break the spell, and 
restore the consciousness of present actualities, the heart's 
response is, "I only stay here ; home is where the affections 
are." Hence it is said that one may be constantly living 
where they are not ; because the mind leads the man, and 
works out the problem of existence, making the state of feeling 
of immeasurably greater interest than all which invests present 
inhabited place. 

So, when friends are far away, among scenes that are strange 
to us, the place where they are is not of much interest or 
importance to us, compared with what we feel when we receive 
the communication which reveals the inner thoughts and pur- 
poses of the soul, and tells with what feelings and hopes they 
look out upon what is about them. Thus the homes of the 
great and the gifted are never so attractive as when associated 
with the sentiments and aspirations of those who dwelt there, 
telling how and for what they lived. It is not the gorge ous- 
ness of richly furnished apartments, nor the massiveness of 
architecture, not the simplicity of rustic ways, nor * any of 
these things that particularly command admiration and interest, 
but the vital energy of soul which infused itself into every- 
thing. It is this which hallows such places. One might talk 
forever of the homes of Cowper and Milton without awaking 
that enthusiasm which attaches itself to the recital of the 
inspiring strains which came warm from their hearts, full of 
the promptings of their inner life. It is these which lend a 
charm to the places where they lived, toiled, and died. It is 
this which surrounds them with so many pleasing associations, 



SPIRIT-UNIOK 



311 



inviting the wise and good to resort hither as to a holy shrine. 
No, place is not everything. The mind is not wholly depend- 
ent upon the external ; but who does not know that a large 
part of enjoyment comes from this source? The Creator has 
made a world, and peopled it with forms of beauty. He has 
given us senses to appreciate them, thus opening a source of 
happiness to all his creatures. It is true that while the mind 
is blinded by sin, and the conscience burdened with guilt, we 
see not these things clearly ; but with this conviction comes 
the impression that, in a world where there is no sin, beauty 
is a thousand-fold more beautiful than here, and that the senses 
may be retained and purified so as to yield joy in measure that 
is now inconceivable. 

Another consideration urged in regard to state is one's real 
absence from society, the real want of it, although surrounded 
with it, by reason of perfect incompatibility of sentiment, 
thought, and feeling in those with whom he associates. Sen- 
sibly he is very near ; but he is conscious that in true congen- 
iality, in everything that constitutes oneness, sympathy, and 
reciprocal interest, he and they are as wide asunder as the poles. 
Their physical relations may be very intimate ; they may be 
in the same circle, the same room, and yet, by more than one 
gauge of measurement, they are far, very far, apart. Hence 
the expressions among friends of the nearness and closeness of 
some, the remoteness and distance of others, though the former m 
may, so far as space is concerned, be very much farther away. 
'The difference is in that which creates mutual regard for the 
same pursuits, tastes, and feelings. Those who love the same 
things have a bond of union, though oceans roll between them. 
Those matters which send a thrill of joy through one, vibrate 
with corresponding effect along the heart-chords of the other. 
According to this, then, it is not physical nearness, but a spirit- 
union, that constitutes the truest bliss of mankind, and beto- 
kens the same, in greater perfection, as the characteristic of 
future good in another life. 



312 



HEART SUPERIOR TO PLACE. 



Moreover, says one, w Were place as momentous as we are 
ever apt to imagine, Christ had surely said," in his memorable 
sermon on the mount, " Blessed are the dwellers in the plain, 
on the mountain, or by the sea ; blessed is a southern climate, 
or a northern ; a land of springs, or of vines and olives. But 
no, not a word of these ; not even, Blessed is he who is born 
or dwells in Judea; but, Blessed is he who, in his inmost 
soul, is consciously poor and destitute." Doubtless the heart, 
and the preparation of the heart, is God's peculiar care, and 
the Saviour knew and taught that man's most important work 
would lie in that region ; that upon its cultivation and regen- 
eration is staked everything. Upon the state of the heart 
heaven must depend ; yet He who sat by the well ; He who 
pointed his followers to the sparrows, the " lilies of the field," 
the grass, the flowers, the sky, drawing from them his richest 
illustrations of spiritual life and truth, surely he was not 
indifferent to place. He saw richness and beauty in the nat- 
ural world as none other saw it ; and if the redeemed spirit 
should be transferred to a heavenly world , — a garnished por- 
tion of God's creation, — it would certainly be no drawback 
to its happiness, that its pure and refined sense could look out 
upon a holy place. 

Further it is said that, where a holy soul is, there is heaven ; 
that it is only the flimsy veil of mortality that prevents such a 
one from actually perceiving heaven where he is. 

" When we speak of the blest," says Whately, " as being 
admitted into the presence of God, we must remember that 
this has not necessarily anything to do with change of place, 
but implies, rather, a change in their condition." 

All persons are, at all times and under all circumstances, in 
the divine presence — never more at one time than at another ; 
but all are not equally conscious of it. Then all that is meant 
when it is said a spirit has passed into the enjoyment of God's 
presence, is the more distinct perception of his presence, and 
the more perfect communication which this allows. 



ILLUSTRATIONS FROM BLIND AND DEAF. 313 



" The all-present God," says the same author, K does not 
inhabit one place more than another ; but he will be more 
manifest to his servants in their glorified state than now ; and 
this probably through the means of a change in their powers 
and faculties." 

There will be new perceptions, and this perception will be 
heaven. As, for instance, one that is blind may stand by a 
goodly prospect, be surrounded with every form of beauty, 
and still be moved not at all, because he is utterly unconscious 
of that which is about him. Let the scales fall from his eyes, 
and the beautiful images of these things be formed upon the 
retina of his eye, and his whole being will thrill with emotion 
which he cannot speak. Says Rev. J. H. Morrison, " Sup- 
pose that a man had been created without the sense of hearing 
or of sight. He stands by the waterfall : the wild magnifi- 
cence of the surrounding scene, the rainbow softness and 
repose blended with its energy, the deep and awful harmony 
of its tones, uttering themselves in the solitude of nature, are 
there ; but to him all is silence and darkness. He goes out as 
the gray dawn feebly spreads itself over the east, ray after ray 
shooting up into the darkness of night, till the whole horizon 
is glowing, and the sun comes forth amid a general burst of 
song from field and grove. Still to him ail is silence and 
darkness ; no voice, no light, and no intimation that such 
things are. A tradition there may be, like our traditions from 
prophets, that to some of his race, in distant ages, strange 
revelations respecting these things were made ; but they soon 
faded out, — the light, he supposes, shone but for a day, 
and ever after a universal night darkened the earth. But 
suddenly his ears are opened, and unimagined sensations 
throng upon him. Melodies that seem from heaven, all har- 
monious sounds of winds and birds and flowing streams, break 
in upon the silence of centuries. Then his eyes are opened, 
and a new creation is before him ; earth and sky, with all the 
changes that pass over them ; the approach of morning and 



314 



SPIRITUAL WORLD NEAR. 



evening, of spring and summer; and, not less than these, the 
human face, on which are imprinted, like passing lights and 
shadows, the various emotions of the soul, — all these, amid 
which he has lived from childhood, come out as a new order 
of being. In like manner mortality is to fall off, new senses 
are to be given, and the holy soul is to rejoice in the full 
blessedness of a present heaven. He sees, he perceives, what 
before he did not see and perceive, and, therefore, he is in 
heaven." 

So too of one who revels in dream-land. He lives and acts, 
enjoys or suffers, as the case may be, as really to himself as if 
he were awake. "He is in two worlds at once, — consciously 
in one, unconsciously in the other. How will you transfer his 
relations from the first to the last? How will you bring him 
from the dream world into the real one ? Not by taking him 
on a journey through space, but simply by waking him up. 
Close one set of senses and open another, and the whole work 
is done. One world vanishes, and another opens upon him 
its endless range of objects. So it is with us. We dream 
now ; we shall wake anon, and wonder at the fields which lie 
about us and the skies that bend over us." 

Still, again, it is observed that the spiritual world is "above 
us, not in space, but in the higher degree of its life, and the 
higher species of substances that compose it. . But it is near 
us, and we are in it, because our souls are of like substance, 
and are organisms to receive its spirit and breathe its airs, and 
have latent in them those orders of perceptive powers capable, 
in due time, of giving us open relations with it and unobstructed 
sight of its transcendent glories." 

We know that a holy disposition is essential — absolutely 
indispensable — to the enjoyment, yea, even to the obtaining, 
of an entrance into heaven. Without it there would be no 
heaven to the soul, though it were in the midst of holy angels 
and burning seraphs. 

God is holy ; the society and employments of heaven are 



GLIMPSES GIVEN TO GOOD MEN. 



315 



holy ; and there must be a corresponding principle in the soul, 
or there will be no appreciation or enjoyment of celestial things. 
Earnests of these things — foretastes of them — > are often en- 
joyed below, while the saint is journeying on to the realm of 
the blest ; and these are construed as evidence that heaven is a 
state — a state begun below. Jesus, in his wonderful mercy 
and condescension, reveals himself to his loving disciples, so 
that often they dwell delightedly in the land of Beulah, having 
rich experience of divine love and rapturous views of the 
country beyond. Heaven and earth meet together, and it 
seems the "grand consummation of all happy experiences." 
Payson, Bunyan, and Janeway, with many others, could talk 
of blessedness and glory before they reached the heavenly 
fields. They exulted in the blissful prospect — -in what they 
saw and felt of the divine glory. They could talk of heaven 
begun below. Happy indeed is such a state of mind and heart. 
It shall continue after death ; the same holy affections, the same 
loving disposition, only stronger and purer. But it does not 
necessarily follow that everything is merged into this state. We 
speak of a happy state of mind now in this world; and it is, 
indeed, oftentimes enjoyed, independent of local circumstances ; 
but there is no inconsistency in speaking of a happy state in a 
happy place. It is more consonant with all our ideas ; but we 
are aware that these fail to grasp the spiritual very fully. 

All the imagery of Christian poets has been employed to 
shadow forth the place of the saints. Pollok's visions of the 
New Jerusalem, from beginning to end, were of "lofty battle- 
ments" and "immortal heights." He sees the sinless band 
repairing to grateful shades, to talk of redeeming love, and anon 
" sailing serene o'er hill and valley," bent on the purest mission — 
the fulfilling of the will of God, their only and rightful King. 
The fervid spirit of Watts looked to its native skies, and saw 
"green and flowery mounts," where weary pilgrims were no 
longer weary, their hearts and steps forevermore light, because 
sin interposed no more obstacles in the way. Milton saw " heaven 



316 IMAGERY OF CHRISTIAN POETS. 



open wide its ever-during gates, on golden hinges turning," 
and through them he caught a glimpse of the holy band moving 
to the sound of sweetest music. Kindred spirits have caught 
similar inspiration, and in harmonious measure have furnished 
material wherewith to kindle the devotion of pious souls in all 
time. It is fit language for the heaven-aspiring nature, and 
many an hour has been made vocal with these songs that other- 
wise might have known only silence. Many a night of sorrow 
has been illumined, many a season of suffering greatly cheered, 
by these poet-ministrations that tell so much of heavenly joy. 
They have lent wings to many a spirit, whereby it has soared 
aloft, until it has felt the influence of a strong current bearing 
it onward and upward more swiftly. The Christian can say, — 

" O, glorious hour ! O, blest abode ! 
I shall be near and like my God, 
And flesh and sin no more control 
The sacred pleasures of the soul." 

Truly the state of those who enter the pearly gates — those 
who will be of the number of the ransomed, who will receive 
the "crown of life," and be accounted worthy to sing the song 
of Moses and the Lamb — truly the state of such will be blessed. 
Forever, it would seem, the expression might rise to their 
sainted lips, " O, happy state ! " 

But that heaven itself be a state, is something without the 
boundary of human knowledge. We do not affirm it, neither 
deny it. Let us only be zealous in a life-long endeavor to gain 
admittance into a region so manifestly blessed. Let us only 
be careful lest we be excluded from the mansions which Jesus 
has gone to prepare — from the " rest which remaineth for the 
people of God." When, in the mountain teachings of the 
Saviour, the multiplied " blessed " was pronounced, it was al- 
ways upon those spirit-graces which constitute the Christian 
life, which fit the character for entrance into the place where 
he was eventually to ascend. The cultivation of these is the 
work of life. The proper development of these is the end of 



NECESSITY OF PREPARATION. 



317 



probation. The due proportion of these is the fitness God 
requires ; it is that upon which he is pleased to smile, that upon 
which he places his seal of approbation. Not that human vir- 
tue, not that mortal attainment, as such, secures the divine favor. 
There is a stream beneath which sinners must be plunged, 
or they cannot be saved — they cannot see heaven. Souls 
must be bathed in the fountain which Christ has opened, or the 
" white robes " of the saints will not be for them. They must 
wash in the pool which Jesus has stirred, or they can never join 
the company of the redeemed, upon whom is no "spot, or 
wrinkle, or any such thing." 

It is for us to heed the injunction, "Wash and be clean." 

" Washed in Jesus' cleansing blood, 
Bathing in that living flood," 

we may come forth meet for the world of purity and light — 
meet for an inheritance among the saints. We may now think 
God's preparations and revelations to be very mysterious. To 
our finite minds there must of necessity be much of mystery. 
We shall never find out the ways of the Infinite unto perfection ; 
and if we did, or could, upon earth, there would be nothing 
left to study into through eternity. 

Could we by " searching find out God," and fully know his 
ways and understand his nature, while we are here below, then 
at death we might as well lie down to sleep, since all would be 
known, and there remain no other sphere of activity for the soul. 

No ! It has been said, and it will always be true, that 
God's ways are above our ways, and his thoughts are above our 
thoughts ; and it has been likewise said, and is, and will ever 
remain, equally true, that "the kingdom of heaven suifereth 
violence, and the violent take it by force." We have a heaven 
to win, a work to do, and it becometh us to look well to the 
matter — the place of our final treasure. 

Heaven may, indeed, be nearer than we think, if our souls 
are in sympathy with Christ. The germ is within, and will 
unfold in a pure and congenial sphere some day — a day known 



318 



GLORY OF TEE ETERNAL DAY. 



only to the Lord, but which will certainly rise in cloudless and 
everlasting light upon each and all whose heart and treasure 
have been given into the divine keeping, whose affections have 
been lovingly, cheerfully transferred to Jesus — him who saves 
his people from their sin ; him who came to restore the joys of 
a brighter Paradise to the fallen, yet penitent, children, of men. 
Eden, in its blooming beauty, was lovely ; in its innocence it 
was glorious ; but the combined purity and beauty of the heaven 
Jesus has opened will present a richer scene, a more glorious 
prospect, than ever appeared in Eden. There is no place like 
the heaven of Jesus, there is no state like that into which he 
introduces his followers. Blessed hour, when the soul shall be 
welcomed there ! 



EMOTIONS OF THE JEWS. 



319 



CHAPTER XX. 

GLIMPSES OF THE BLESSED THINGS TO COME. 

Jewish Emotions at beholding Canaan. — Power of first Glimpses.' — Living 
Illustrations. — Pilgrim on the Mount. — Foretastes at the Close of 
Life. — Hall, Pay son, and Janeway. — Triumphant Death of youthful 
Disciples. — Faith at the open Grave. — Pisgah-views frequent among 
the Faithful. 

" New vistas opening to the wondering gaze, 

New scenes unfolding to the enraptured eyes — 
Hark — the harmonious chords of angel lays 

Sound through the starry realms of Paradise." — E. G. Barber. 

What emotions must have stirred the hearts of the Jews of 
olden time, as they drew near the land which had filled their 
thoughts and desires, quickened their steps and animated 
their souls, through all the long and weary way of the desert ! 
Whoso could have walked beside the favored ones as they first 
obtained a glimpse of the coveted land, would have found a 
strange light kindling in their eyes, doubtless, and a strange 
joy welling up from their souls, taking to itself words, and 
those words expressive of wonder and admiration. For years 
all their associations had clustered around the land of promise 
— the fair Canaan. Their hearts had gone out after it, and 
their steps had tended toward it ; and who can tell the joy of 
greeting ? 

So it is with Christians — they wander " in a solitary 
way," in the desert of this world, the wilderness of sin, find- 
ing many a devious path, in which they lose sight of the fiery 
and the cloudy pillar, which is given for their guidance. When 



320 



POWER OF FIRST GLIMPSES. 



emerging again into the straight way, they behold the borders 
of their inheritance, the view of it fills them with inexpressible 
delight, and they say, "Let us live and die with Canaan in 
sight." There is nothing that yields such perfect pleasure, 
nothing that so beguiles the tediousness of the way. It may 
be rough and uneven, exposing to danger and suffering ; but a 
glimpse of what remains at the end suffices to buoy up the 
spirit through all, — and the first glimpse — who hath not seen 
the kindling eye and the smiling countenance, telling of inward 
joy at this eventful period in life — this never-to-be-forgotten 
hour, which opens so much to the wondering gaze? What 
sights burst upon the clarified vision at a time like this — what 
scenes, what experiences! Then begins the life of faith, and 
what before was shadow becomes reality. There is no longer 
any doubt that there is a " happy land ; " and it henceforth is the 
all-engrossing idea to be fitted for it ; the all-controlling motive 
to live so as to reach it. 

It is the dawning light of glory in the soul, a new era in the 
life of sense, for the latter is sanctified and only fulfilled in pro- 
portion as the former is all-pervading and true. There is never 
a right perception of anything until one obtains a glimpse of 
God, of heaven, of things pertaining to his kingdom. One 
may feast his eyes upon the loveliest things in nature and art, 
but the first sight of Jesus and his cross as a practical necessity, 
a heart-need, makes everything else fade, or at least invests 
them with a new coloring. He may, indeed, see more beauty 
in nature ; but it is because he traces the workings of God's 
finger, because he observes in all things the transcript of the 
Divine, and rejoicing in the new creation, the new light that 
beams upon him, he adopts the language of him whom Christ 
restored — " Whereas I was blind, now I see." 

One may be the recipient of every earthly good for a long 
time, apparently without a want unsatisfied ; and yet the very 
first budding of Christian experience in his soul will make him 
feel, in the deepest consciousness of his nature, that all past joy 
was as nothing in the comparison. 



FORETASTES OF HEAVEN. 



321 



Hence the confessions of the new-born soul which we so 
often hear, that a single hour in the delightful freedom of God's 
service is better than anything it had ever known. Said one 
upon whose vision heavenly things had burst, " For three days 
I have known what it is to live, — to live in the true sense 
— a sense which, before, my highest conceptions had never 
reached. Every step I take seems to carry me toward heaven. 
Already I am treading ground that affords a f thousand sacred 
sweets.'" Here was a glimpse of that which is spiritual — a 
foretaste of that which is heavenly. Such views had the 
Psalmist, when he exclaimed, "A day in thy courts is better 
than a thousand." " O, taste and see that the Lord is good." 

When the sun comes out in a clear sky after a long season of 
cloud and tempest, we are conscious of a very pleasing sensa- 
tion. Everything seems more beautiful than before. Our ap- 
preciation is stronger, our enjoyment greater ; but no sunlight, 
bursting upon the darkest period, is at all comparable with that 
change which the Sun of righteousness creates, when he comes 
with "healing in his wings," and broods over the dark and sin- 
disturbed spirit. No calm ever came so gratefully to storm-tossed 
mariner in angry ocean tempest as that which the Infinite gives 
to those tossed upon the restless sea of guilt. There is no 
sweeter word, in earth or heaven, than this, coming from 
the all-merciful, " Thy sins are forgiven thee." In these tones 
love and pity are blended, and they strike the deepest chords in 
the human soul. They make a new life, they regenerate. 
Then follow the yearnings for spiritual knowledge and holiness, 
strivings for spiritual conquests, and ceaseless struggles for 
final victory. One glimpse will not suffice. It only kin- 
dles the ardor to know more, to see more of that which is 
spread out before him in the new world into which he has 
been ushered. 

Jesus takes him by the hand, and leads him to new scenes 
and sights ; and he loves to linger there, saying within himself, 
l? One glimpse of thine, my dearest Lord, is more to me than 
21 



322 



FORETASTES OF HEAVEN, 



all the treasures of the world. Strange that I so long failed to 
see those objects which now seem so plain." The veil has been 
removed, and he has looked into the holy place, and seen things 
that he never saw before. There is no other glimpse that 
reveals so much, that has so much power, that inspires so 
many and such rich hopes. jNo where else does so much de- 
pend upon a look. If we have never felt its influence our- 
selves, we have all doubtless seen it in others. A young 
lady at a season of life when all things are fairest and 
brightest, when hope is alluring and pleasure most enticing, 
was arrested by a slow disease, and shut out from the world. 
All that affection could do was done to compensate for the 
deprivations to which she was subject, and if it wa3 possible 
for earthly love to make the soul happy, she might have dis- 
missed her regrets, and rested upon its strong bulwark ; but 
she could not do it. The great soul-need was not met. She 
had never seen Jesus, and in the silent watches of the wake- 
ful night, he came and showed her, what she had never seen 
before ; he gave her a glimpse of herself and of himself, and 
from that moment there was something new inwrought into her 
nature. She gave herself to a life-long gaze, and ever and 
anon one might have observed a sweet serenity of countenance 
that told the inner joy to which the look had given rise. Hu- 
man sympathy and love were no less dear, but the divine was 
infinitely dearer. It was a new development of being — the 
actual introduction of a new element into the soul — the gen- 
eration of a new principle, the conjunction of two lives — the 
life of faith and the life of sense, or rather the blending of 
the two into one harmonious whole. And what wrought this 
change? A glimpse of Jesus, — such a glimpse as insured a 
heart-reception of him. 

But this was not all. It opened the New Jerusalem, and 
she saw the inside glories of the Celestial City, and she read 
her own title to mansions there, comforted in her loss of 
earthly things, and more than willing to close her eyes upon 



TEE YOUNG ARTIST. 



323 



sublunary good, for the richer prospect soon to be realized. 
Heaven was no longer afar off, but near at hand, divided 
from earth only by a line, and that line easily crossed, 
since the new and clear vision showed just how and just 
where it was best to cross it. This is but one of the many 
instances that might be cited of those who have been so highly 
favored thus. Such is more or less the experience of all 
who are brought out of nature's darkness into the marvellous 
light of the gospel. Some may look longer, and study more 
deeply, into the mysterious pictures that hang upon the walls, 
and thus take in a larger measure of the spirit of the artist, 
unconsciously incorporating into themselves the elements of 
his own spirit and character. For this reason it is, that some 
seem more deeply pervaded with the gospel spirit than others. 
A slender girl, an enthusiast in the art of painting, went 
to Home to study the masterpieces of the several schools 
exhibited there. She placed herself before them, pondered 
every line, observed the nice effect of shading, studied every 
feature and expression, until she became so thoroughly imbued 
with their spirit and design, as to reproduce the creations of 
the original artist with an ease and perfectness that were sur- 
prising. 

So, too, the Christian may place himself before the divinest 
of all models — the living Jesus, and beholding the unrivalled 
magnificence of the picture, may, indeed, fail to copy, but find 
that infused into his soul which will give him control over 
the best and highest of all arts — the production of a high 
Christian life. Just in proportion as the model is studied, will 
its influence appear in the life, and its characteristics be man- 
ifest in action. 

"Tell me the secret of your uniform quietness and peace," 
said one, who was met by the reply, "I have Christ in my heart, 
and heaven in my eye, and why should I not be at rest?" "I 
have seen Jesus," said another, who was interrogated as to his 
calmness in the midst of trying circumstances ; and it is the, 



324 



TENNENT'S VISION. 



"vision o'er his face," which hath "overpowering charms," 
which hath in it that which will make the soul glad when all 
that is earthly and physical combines to sadden and depress. 

There are rich experiences for the faithful devotee at the 
gospel shrine. To such it is given to have precious glimpses 
of the heavenly world, and to have assurances of their own 
final transport there. 

As one who has never studied into an art can never appre- 
ciate the beauties of that art, or the inspiration it occasions, 
so those who are strangers to the religion of Jesus know not 
its inherent power and excellency. Nor is one short and 
transient glimpse sufficient to reveal it all. It may show one 
form of the sacred kaleidoscope ; but the infinite variations are 
only seen by a perpetual gaze. With every turn of the instru- 
ment, something new enters into the combination, exciting 
fresh admiration and wonder ; and this is to continue through 
all eternity. 

If a glimpse of the heavenly world is so transporting here, 
who can tell what it will be, to look continually upon the 
unveiled glories of Paradise, with a vision and being that are 
able to bear and comprehend it ? Feeble mortality is some- 
times scarcely able to endure the sight. Eev. William Ten- 
nent, who was " carried away in the spirit," and had a rapturous 
view of the celestial state, groaned aloud at the idea of 
remaining longer in a sinful and tempting world. So entirely 
was his soul possessed of what he had seen, that he declared 
himself perfectly indifferent to everything below ; so much so, 
that he would hardly have stooped for the combined treasures 
of earth, though they had lain at his feet. 

What visions of heaven had Kichard Baxter ! Hear him 
saying, " Rest ! how sweet the sound ! It is melody to my 
ears. It lies as a reviving cordial at my heart, and from 
thence sends forth lively spirits, which beat through all the 
pulses of my soul. O blessed day, when I shall rest with 
God, when I shall rest in the bosom of my Lord, when I 



BAXTER'S RAPTURE. 325 

shall rest in knowing, loving, rejoicing, and praising him. 
O joyful sentence, f Come, ye blessed.' O blessed grace ! O 
blessed love ! How love and joy will rise ! But I cannot 
express it; I cannot conceive it." Thus, by drinking at the 
heavenly fountain, and feeding upon heavenly manna, the 
soul rises, and from lofty heights looks out upon the beautiful 
land. Some have not only glimpses, but rich foretastes, 
earnests of the joys which await them. They have an actual 
tasting of the same kind of bliss which they are to know 
above — the same kind, we say, but not in the same degree; 
for none are capable of enjoying its full measure this side of 
Jordan. 

When the messengers who were sent "to spy out the land," 
came back to the children of Israel, burdened with the weight 
of the rare clusters, they gave to those to whom they presented 
them, a foretaste of their inheritance, which kindled anew the 
ardor of their desire for it, and quickened their steps toward it. 

So, when Christians are met by the rich clusters of gospel 
grace, they have a foretaste of future heavenly bliss, and they 
find themselves running, w T ith new alacrity, the race which 
must be accomplished before they can gain the triumph — 
before they can be crowned. Their zeal is renewed, and they 
find themselves stronger to bear the toil and weariness incident 
to their life-journey. They see the table spread at the end, 
w r ith the choicest fruits of Paradise, and Jesus inviting them 
to the heavenly banquet, to sit down with his honored guests 
to partake of the bountiful, life-giving repast which he has 
prepared. Their table in the wilderness of mortality may be 
scantily furnished ; but they heed it not, since they have a 
seat assigned them at the last great feast — " the marriage 
supper of the Lamb." No royal preparations of earthly mon- 
archs can compare with this. It far transcends all others in 
its extent and richness, and thrice blessed those who are 
invited, or those who have the requisite "garment" to appear 
a guest at the sacred board. 



326 HOW TO OBTAIN TIIESE FORETASTES. 



And this is no illusion. Imagination often spreads a table 
for us, and we sit, silent guests, around those things which it 
has prepared ; but we find our actual needs the same when we 
arise as when we sat down. We are no nearer being satisfied 
at the end than at the beginning ; but it is not so with the 
gospel feast. 

But how are these foretastes to be gained? Those who 
have realized them tell of their blessed sweetness and satisfac- 
tion, and also unite in saying that it is only through Christ, 
the Master of the feast, that they have any adequate sense of 
the fulness and richness of that which is provided. The apos- 
tles talk of "heavenly places in Christ Jesus," that are open 
upon earth. 

There are those who are privileged to sit in them while they 
are residents of time ; yea, all those who truly profess 
allegiance to the King of heaven may know how grateful and 
refreshing it is to linger about these places. Here is experi- 
enced, in its fullest and most perfect sense, Christian fellowship 
— the communion of saints. Preparing to go to the same 
feast, in "the last great day," their hopes, feelings, sympathies, 
and purposes are one, and they are inspired with one common 
impulse in the matter of preparation and contemplation. It 
is a great occasion, and everything depends upon the fitness 
for it. Therefore they muse and converse together upon their 
prospects, and that mysterious union which has been pre- 
figured by the vine and its branches. Hereby a bond of 
intimacy is revealed, and "though the root and stem, and all 
the most fruitful branches, are on the side of the church trium- 
phant, yet, like the vine which dying Jacob mentions as the 
mystic symbol of Joseph's increase, 1 its branches run over the 
wall,' and saints on this side also 'eat the bread which cometh 
down from heaven.' " 

Their ear divinely quickened through faith, "authentic tid- 
ings " come to their inmost souls from the upper world. They 
catch the melodies of heaven. Soft spirit-whisperings steal in, 



PILGRIM ON THE MOUNT. 



327 



soothing every passion and quelling every tumult, bringing out 
more fully those graces which are to be finally and fully devel- 
oped in a better world. Love courses through the heart, im- 
parting its beneficent and comforting influences, until is real- 
ized that "peace of God which passeth all understanding." 
A hallowed purpose becomes visible in the life, and an elevat- 
ing power in action ; but these glimpses and foretastes are 
far-reaching in their influence. They not only are the con- 
necting link between earth and heaven, while the Christian 
remains below, but they go to form that chain which binds 
one to the eternal throne when flesh and heart have failed. 
They not only materially affect the experience of this life, but 
they may incite the safely-gathered ones to fresh anthems of 
praise, as they review the way in which the Lord has led them, 
in the "heavenly places" above. God has rich communica- 
tions of grace for the faithful believer, and we love to note 
them in the earthly manifestation, as they are seen and felt by 
those who walk with us on the same journey. 

We knew an aged pilgrim of more than fourscore years, to 
whom a rich experience was granted in a favored hour, so that 
heaven was opened to him, and he read his title clear, as never 
before. He was in the temple of nature, on a mountain of the 
Lord's uplifting. It was autumn, and the sere and yellow 
leaves had each and all found their burial, and sighing winds 
had pronounced their last requiem — not altogether an unapt 
emblem of the pilgrim's life, and its spent, or, at least, far-spent 
joys. A few flowers yet lingered around the spot of his daily 
labor; and as they greeted his vision, he thought of the great- 
ness and goodness of that Being who formed the world and 
cares for the flowers, till his soul was pervaded with love. 
Suddenly a new glory filled his eye, heaven opened before him, 
all fear of death vanished, and he went home rejoicing in the 
vision, no more to be " subject to bondage," through fear of the 
last enemy. He had seen the Lord, and He had given him a 
foretaste of his inheritance beyond the skies. 



328 



THE SUFFERER SANCTIFIED. 



But God does not always, nor perhaps often, appear in this 
signal manner. It is the uniform life of faithfulness and sub- 
mission that pleases him, and he is pleased to reward each in 
his own way. We are not to count upon remarkable displays, 
"but trust him for his grace," in the humble and faithful 
performance of every duty ; but there are seasons of quiet 
and heart-felt joy which steal upon every one of Christ's disci- 
ples, which, if not so peculiar, do, nevertheless, excite gratitude, 
because of the infinite mercy and condescension which allow 
them. 

Whatever be the character of our Christian experience, it will 
be rich if we will open our hearts to the fulness of spiritual 
blessing as promised in the gospel. " The secret of the Lord 
is with them that fear him." He has indicated his willingness 
to take up his abode with those who love and fear ; and who can 
tell what manner of good will attend the residence of so heav- 
enly a guest ? Who can tell what will flow forth from such 
union , such friendship ? Who does not know that it is supremely 
grateful to have some one upon whom to rely on all occa- 
sions and under all circumstances, with the most perfect con- 
fidence ; and who so reliable, so ever true, as the loving and all- 
powerful Jesus? He can give what none other can give. He 
can show what none other can show. We have said it before, 
there are no revelations like those which he makes, none other 
so fruitful in blessing, so momentous in consequence. 

With one more instance of heavenly foretaste, we proceed to 
those more particularly manifest at the close of life, when the 
Christian is nearer heaven than earth — almost home. 

A Christian lady had long desired the experience of a higher 
life. She longed to have humility and holiness of stronger, 
richer growth in her heart, and to know and enjoy her 
Lord more perfectly. Her closet witnessed the fervor of her 
prayers for the fulfilment of this desire, and, as she afterward 
said, — 



FORETASTES AT THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 329 



"I hoped that in some favored hour 
At once he'd answer my request, 
And by his love's constraining power 
Subdue my sins and give me rest." 

God, however, chose a different method of discipline — an 
unthought-of, yea, an unsought way for the more full com- 
munication of himself ; but he worketh in wisdom always. He 
undermined the citadel of health, took Reason from her throne, 
darkened the chambers of mind, and left her bereft indeed. At 
length, however, he lifted the curtain, pouring in the sunlight 
of his grace, until her full soul cried, " It is enough." Gradually 
she was restored to physical vigor, while all the while she dwelt 
upon the mount, her soul at peace, her heart at rest, rejoicing 
that "the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." Yerily, there is "a 
God that judgeth in the earth, and is mindful of the children of 
his covenant." 

Precious are these heavenly foretastes which he gives them — 
these delightful seasons of the divine favor. Let earthly disci- 
pline be what it may, the path of life ever so rugged, there are, 
nevertheless, a lightness of heart, a buoyancy of spirit, with 
those who walk so closely with God. Clouds may settle down 
upon the horizon, obscuring their earthly prospects ; but there 
are rifts through which bright skies are discernible, and they can 
calmly wait till the tempest be overpast and the cloudless day 
appear. 

But if the Christian life be active and progressive, it is to- 
ward the close of life that these foretastes become more intense- 
ly full and satisfying. As one long exiled from home finds his 
pace quickened, and his heart palpitating more strongly as he 
nears again the loved circle ; as the distant glimpse of the roof 
that shelters his own, and the tree that shades it, makes the " Wel- 
come home" to sound in his ears, and the loving embrace and 
the warm pressure of the hand to be felt, so does the Christian 
at the end of his earthly career find his heart beating with joy 
in anticipation of a welcome reception into his heavenly home 
— his Father's house. From over the narrow stream he hears 



330 



JANEWAY, PAYSON, AND HALL. 



a voice, saying, "Come, ye blessed;" and he sees a shining 
host waiting to introduce him to the blessed band with whom 
he is to associate forever. His soul leaps forth at the sum- 
mons, and in passing he leaves behind some measure of that 
joy he felt at going. 

Two loving friends were separated for a time, during which 
a constant interchange of thought and affection was maintained. 
As the time of reunion drew near, and the last missive was 
sent forth, " I am coming," one said ; " already I feel the warm 
pressure of your hand, and the joy of welcome." And so 
feels the one about to be united " to the spirits of the just made 
perfect, to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant," and to 
all those whose names are written in heaven. "I am going 
home to die no more " is the jubilant anthem of the soul, — to 
be no more away from Christ, my soul-lover, — no more away 
from heaven, that blissful abode, — 

" Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, 
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns." 

Who does not know the exultant language of John Janeway, 
in the last days of his mortal existence? His feelings were 
constantly finding expression in such words as these : " O that 
I could show you what I now see ! O the glory ! the unspeak- 
able glory that I behold ! My heart is full, my heart is full ; 
Christ smiles, and I cannot choose but smile. Can you find 
it in your heart to stop me, who am now going to the com- 
plete enjoyment of Christ? Would you keep me from my 
crown ? The arms of my blessed Saviour are open to receive 
me ; the angels stand ready to carry my soul into his bosom. 
O, did you but see what I see, you would all cry out with me, 
* How long, dear Lord? Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly ! ' " 
So with the Eev. Mr. Halyburton and the holy Payson, who 
sailed on, as it were, in a sea of glory, to the fathomless ocean 
of bliss in another world. Gordon Hall was interrupted in 
his work of spreading the news of salvation on a foreign shore 
— the work to which his life was devoted, and one in which 



TEE VALLEY MADE BRIGHT. 



331 



his heart was deeply enlisted. He would fain have gathered a 
large number of the sin-soiled around the Cross, that its heal- 
ing blood might have cleansed them all ; but while engaged 
in leading them there, his Master called him. He lay down 
in the veranda of a Brahminic temple, and there saw heaven 
opened, and the angels ready to lead him thither. Forgetting 
all things else, his thrice-repeated shout was, " Glory!" He 
passed through the gate, and it was shut. 

Similar foretastes have been granted to very many of God's 
children, previous to their entrance into the dark valley. 
Indeed, so much light has been poured upon it that it has been 
no longer dark. There has been no fear, no reluctance to 
tread it ; yea, they have hastened toward it, because of their 
eagerness to dwell upon the " enchanted ground " beyond ; 
because of their desire to be at home with the Lord. Chris- 
tian biography is rich in instances of this kind — of those who 
have been eminent for their faith and piety, whose triumphal 
way to the skies has been paved with glory ; but their names 
are familiar to us all, and we choose now those in the humble 
walks of life, those we have seen and known, whose names 
and histories are unwritten and unknown to the world. It is a 
prime characteristic of the religion of Jesus that it is uncon- 
fined in its influence. The cottage of the poor and the palace 
of the rich may be alike blessed by its enlightening beams. 
The richest glimpses are often afforded to those who dwell 
beneath the humblest roof, magnifying the grace of God in a 
most wonderful manner. 

In a remote district of New England, and in a remote part 
of that district, might have been seen a small and very rude 
dwelling, inhabited by a worthy, yet poor and unlettered 
family. One of its members, a young girl, became deeply 
interested in spiritual things, and in the simplicity and energy 
of her character devoted herself to the cause of Christ. A little 
time subsequent to this consecration, disease marked her for its 
victim, and she daily pined away under its influence ; but every 



332 TRIUMPH OF YOUTHFUL DISCIPLES. 



rent of the earthly house was a crevice to admit light from above. 
Bapidly her soul was perfected in the wisdom that maketh not 
ashamed ; and when her last hour drew near, she was " ready 
to be offered," joyful that her time of release had come. With 
a smilin^ countenance, in her last moment, she exclaimed, 
" The angels are here : farewell ; I am going." And she went — 
went to the bosom of her Saviour, to him who had ransomed 
her spirit, and given the victory. None could have looked 
upon that scene and felt that salvation hinged upon any earthly 
consideration. Position, wealth, and fame are nothing; but 
wherever is found a humble, penitent, trustful heart, there is 
a temple for the Most High ; there is a place for him to reveal 
his glory. Angels are commissioned to watch over such, and 
to bear them safely to the mansions of the blest when their 
mission below is accomplished. Memory recalls another of 
kindred circumstances and spirit. All the hopes that beam so 
brightly and allure so strongly for the youth in opening life 
were hers. She had just reached that period when one natu- 
rally basks in the sunshine of existence ; when the heart sends 
forth its tendrils, which attach themselves to the many fair and 
beautiful objects around it, clinging with such tenacity that it 
is like breaking the life-strings to sever them. She had given 
her heart, with its wealth of affection, to one she loved, and 
the feeling was warmly reciprocated. Imagination had already 
invested a future home with its peculiar charms, and she walked 
in the light of love continually. 

But a change came over the spirit of her dream. The light 
faded from her eye, the rose from her cheek. Her step grew 
feeble, and it became evident that consumption was doing its 
fatal work. Now came the relinquishing of every earthly 
prospect, the yielding of every cherished wish and hope to the 
inevitable decree. For a time, indeed, there was a struggle, a 
conflict, the fierceness of which God only knew ; but the vic- 
tory was soon gained. A holy calm settled upon her soul, and 
was visible in her eye ; and one looking there would have seen 



TRIUMPH OF YOUTHFUL DISCIPLJSS. 



333 



no trace in those serene and placid depths of the recent strug- 
gles of heart and self-love. 

For a time she felt that much was involved in the sacrifice ; 
but there was no reserve in the final and cheerful surrender. 
The committal was perfect, and life ebbed away with the sweet- 
est resignation and composure. She saw the flowers open and 
send forth their sweetness upon the fragrant breath of spring, 
and smilingly she said, " It is the last time. Before they open 
again I shall have done with earth." The roses sent in their 
perfume at her window, and the breezes of early summer 
kissed her cheek, but they enticed not her spirit to earth again. 
The eye of faith was fixed upon the beauty and blessedness of 
another land, and daily and hourly it grew in desirableness and 
interest. Earthly friends and friendship were indeed dear, but 
she knew that the sweetest lays of heaven were inspired by 
love, and it would more perfectly and satisfactorily fill her soul 
there than here. On a bright summer day Jesus sent and 
called her. She saw his extended hand, and with unutter- 
able joy upon her countenance, and a song of triumph upon 
her lips, she clasped it and went, while surrounding weeping 
friends were constrained to sing, — 

"How blest the righteous when he dies ! " 
According to her own request, it was placed upon her tomb- 
stone, " Saved by grace." Her career was short, and ended 
in triumph ; but there was no merit there, only such as be- 
longed to Jesus and his infinite sacrifice. Salvation is all of 
grace — free, unmerited grace. How it is magnified in such 
instances as these ! Those who go up from then- humble homes 
to wear the crown of the redeemed must, indeed, forever 
ascribe glory and honor to Him who wrought the wondrous 
scheme, and made the royal road to heaven. Not less, how- 
ever, must those who are called from among the " mighty " and 
the " noble " of the land pay the same tribute. They too must 
say, " It is all of grace," if at last they are conquerors, and take 
the crown, the palm of victory. 



334 



VICTORY IN DEATH. 



" Grace first contrived the "way 
To save rebellious man ; 
And all the steps that grace display, 
Which drew the wondrous plan. 

" Grace all the work shall crown, 
Through everlasting days ; 
It lays in heaven the topmost stone, 
And well deserves the praise." 

w O, help me to sing of grace," said one with his expiring 
breath ; and the same appeal was echoed by another who would 
have the last sound that should greet him upon earth that of 
a grateful song for redeeming grace. 

We give one instance more, and only one. We know that 
these dying experiences are not the most important portion of 
living. A faithful life is that to which the Christian has his 
attention more often directed in that book given for his counsel 
and guidance. The Bible is mostly silent upon death-bed 
scenes. Stephen "saw heaven opened," and had rapturous 
visions of the glory which encircled the place where J esus sat ; 
and his own interest in what he saw extracted all fear of death 
and persecution, and made him indifferent as to the manner of 
his translation thither. Paul was joyful in the anticipation 
of death, and doubtless, when he did die, was happy and satis- 
fied with the presence of his Lord. We know that God does 
visit his friends, that he does grant them rich and heavenly 
manifestations of himself — precious glimpses of what they 
are to enjoy ; and we would notice this that we may extol that 
grace which does so much. 

In the town of L , Mass., lived a young lady, the only 

and gifted child of doting parents. Intelligent and refined, 
she was the pride and admiration of a large circle. Nature 
had conferred upon her rare powers of mind and rare grace 
of person. Her clear and lustrous eye beamed with unwonted 
brightness, and the stamp of intellect was upon her forehead. 
Sweetness and gentleness were mingled in her disposition, 
altogether making a character of no ordinary mould. 



TEE GIFTED DISCIPLE. 



335 



She loved the walks of science, the fields of knowledge, 
and was a successful explorer there. Friends beheld the rapid 
unfolding of her mind with peculiar interest, for at a very 
early age her attainments were particularly varied and exten- 
sive. She gathered about her all pleasant things, — birds, 
flowers, minerals, — moving among them, herself a beautiful 
specimen of God's creation. 

Her glad spirit always seemed in unison with the happiest 
part of God's world. The chill winds of adversity had never 
blown upon her ; the breath of sorrow had never touched her. 
Health bloomed upon her cheek, and gladness was the abiding 
guest of her heart. What must the approach of the last 
enemy be to such a one ? She was stayed in her course by 
a fever, that slowly crept through her frame, and finally 
reached to the vitals, awaking that " hollow cough " which is 
the sure harbinger of a dread foe. So unwilling were the loving 
to harbor a thought of separation, they tried long to assure 
themselves that it was only an illusion that would soon be past ; 
but the smitten one discerned the dart that was aimed, and 
bared her bosom to the stroke. When at last the loving 
mother took home the bitter consciousness to her soul, she 
sought to retain the precious features of her child by the art 
which perpetuates the image, yet after all cruelly mocks the 
yearnings of our love for the sympathetic smiles and loving 
glances once given by the living friend. " The remembrance 
of your child will always be fresh," said the dying one ; "you 
will never forget your only one — it is enough." "May I not 
then retain those ringlets upon which I have loved to look, 
and which seem so much like yourself?" " They belong to 
the grave," was the reply ; " let it have its due." 

"I have loved life," said she; "it has been bright, sunny, 
happy ; but another life opens before me, and all that life is 
love. Mourn not, weep not, for I am going home." Beauti- 
fully her life brightened into its golden sunset. Early one 
Sabbath morning it was said of her, " She has gone home." 



336 



FAITH AT THE OPEN GRAVE. 



Seldom is recorded a fairer history — a more beautiful life or 
more peaceful death. Sympathizing ones wept with the 
mourners, and said, "It is a mystery ; " and we cannot repress 
the rising why ? when so much virtue and loveliness are laid in 
an early tomb ; but Jesus is on the throne, and we are short- 
sighted and selfish ; therefore let us bow to his righteous man- 
dates, though they encircle us closely and affect us keenly. 
Let us rejoice that he prepares our friends for an early trans- 
lation, and so freely vouchsafes his presence, when the scenes 
of earth and time recede from their view. How this detracts 
from the anguish of bereavement ! It lightens the stroke that 
would otherwise be crushing. There is nothing that grants 
more effectual consolation than the assurance that those who 
go from us are gone to be forever at rest with the Lord. 

When we stand by the open grave where we bury so much 
of joy, we are, nevertheless, not strangers to joyful emotions 
if we saw the loved depart in the triumphs of faith, for then 
we feel that though we have lost, they have gained — gained 
an unspeakable reward, and therefore are infinitely more 
blessed than they could be on earth. 

It is these heavenly foretastes that make the young and the 
hopeful so willing to yield themselves to the embrace of death. 
We marvel not so much when the aged pilgrim manifests a 
desire to leave the world, for he has proved all it had to offer — 
tried it in all its aspects. Having tasted its joys, and known its 
disappointments, it would not be very strange if he should 
become weary of the dull, unsatisfying round, and desire some- 
thing new and better. But for those whose taste the pleasures 
of earth have never palled, to turn aside and greet the king 
of terrors seems more unnatural. More unnatural, we say — 
it seems to some ; but to those who understand what heavenly 
foretastes mean, there is nothing strange or wonderful in this, 
unless the emotions be excited in connection with that rich 
grace which produces such willing resignation — such glad 
experience. Forever let man adore this superabounding grace. 



TEE BETTER LAND IN SIGHT. 337 

" The soul that can rise above the clouds of earth," says one, 
w can always behold the infinity of heaven ; and perhaps every 
rightly-taught man, before God takes him, ascends to a Pisgah 
of his own, from whence to look farewell to the wilderness he 
has passed in the leadings of Jehovah's right hand, and to 
catch a glimpse of the promised land lying in the everlasting 
orient before him." From afar comes a voice to his spirit's ear. 
He knows the voice, and with an unction of joyful obedience 
he bounds toward the place from whence it calls, "glad — 
more than glad, to obey." 
22 



338 EARTHLY ACQUISITIONS, 



CHAPTEE XXI. 

THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE A PECULIAR GOOD. 

Emotions at earthly Acquisitions. — Superiority of heavenly. — The first 
Paradise. — The second eclipsing it. — Perpetual Youth. — Sinlessness 
the crowning Glory. — The Faith-inspired Soul rich. — Watchfulness 
necessary. 

" 0 happy, happy country, where 
There entereth not a sin, 
And Death, who keeps its portals fair, 
May never once come in." — C. Bowles. 

If in some hour, as we were musing upon our poor estate, 
our obscure and homely destiny, it should be told us, and on 
such good authority that we could not doubt it, that a kind 
and thoughtful friend, in the generosity of his nature, and in 
sympathy for our condition, had awarded us a portion of his 
richer domain, what a change would come over our spirits ! 
Doubt might, indeed, at first, largely mingle with the new- 
born hopes ; but as the papers were unrolled, and the signature 
displayed, the right of possession would be confirmed, and 
with the confirmation would come that which would form, as 
it were, a new creation. Everything would appear in a new 
aspect. A new and brighter charm would be given to life 
and the world. Where before was despondency, would now 
be courage. Ambition would take the place of depression, 
hope would kindle in the eye, joy light the countenance, and 
the heart enter largely into plans and schemes with reference 
to the new possession. Every thought and action would 
be associated with it, and every step taken with reference to 



JOY IN EARTHLY ACQUISITIONS. 



339 



it ; and if any one had been in a situation to know minutely 
of it, if he with his own eyes had seen it, how eagerly 
should we seek him out, and with what interest inquire of its 
resources, its location, and its advantages. We should not 
only be anxious for general characteristics, but we should not 
weary of the discussion of the smallest matter that concerned 
it, inasmuch as we should feel ourselves interested in and 
affected by the smallest consideration respecting it, especially 
if we contemplated removal thither. We should observe every 
precaution in regard to title and transportation, and as the 
time of arrival drew on, expectation would gain new strength, 
and every delay be proportionately unwelcome. 

Shall it be less than this with regard to our heavenly inher- 
itance? All terrestrial possessions, and all that results from 
them, only endure for a little time, and then vanish away. 
We may clasp our title to these ever so firmly, but it and 
them will be wrenched from our embrace in the hour when 
soul and body part. 

In many a silent and meditative hour, musing upon poverty 
of spirit, and need of soul-riches, we have been met by the 
assurance — a thousand times made sure — that a kind Friend 
has cared for us ; that the infinite compassion of his nature has 
been touched, as he has looked down upon our condition ; and 
that, with the most unselfish love ever known, he has portioned 
out his boundless possessions, and offered them freely to our 
acceptance, " without money and without price." We are 
told that he has prepared " mansions," and he stands waiting 
to give us a blessed and welcome reception into them. More- 
over they are so richly furnished that human conception fails 
in the attempt to get a just idea of them. He knows 
that we are poor, and in great need, and his preparations 
have been made accordingly. He knows that we are wan- 
dering and abject pilgrims, without raiment and without 
means to purchase any ; and in pity for our forlorn state, he 
has provided material for an ample supply of the most per- 



340 THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE SUPERIOR. 



feet robes that mortals ever beheld, and says, "Come and 
take them ! " 

He knows that man wants a home, — that it is the native 
desire of his soul to have a spot where he may rest, enjoy 
life, and find sympathy ; and he fitted up one transcendent in 
all these excellences, and offered it on the wisest and simplest 
conditions possible. Beside this, it is to be ever-enduring, 
so that those once entered have never a fear that their lease 
will run out, and they be obliged to leave it. It is a provis- 
ion in which there is no partiality. To each and all he 
says, " Come, and ye shall be my children, — my sons and my 
daughters, — and share in all the blessings of my heavenly 
home." He says it to us. From our Father's house in the 
skies the invitation comes sounding in our ears, "Come, and 
ye shall be welcome : for your poverty, take riches ; for your 
abjectness, take lofty virtue ; for your dark fears, take brightest 
hopes ; and for the meagre and contracted possessions of time, 
take the full and varied ones of heaven." How can we be 
indifferent to such full and free invitations as these ? Why 
manifest so little interest in what pertains to the New Jerusa- 
lem, and the possessions there? 

It would seem that nothing would surpass our eagerness to 
know and understand all things that have the most remote con- 
nection with it ; and if we found those who were more deeply 
versed in them than ourselves, we should be lost in the absorb- 
ing idea of gaining more knowledge, and in the application of 
that knowledge to our own practical benefit. 

It would seem that all the allurements of earth and sense 
would be as nothing in comparison with the conditions it is 
necessary to observe in order to secure an entrance to so 
blessed a home ; for what is it to have a heavenly home — an 
inheritance there? rather what is not included in it? It 
comprises everything that can be thought of or desired, so 
that, when we come to consider it, we are lost in the stupen- 
dous glory; and when we single out its pleasures, and sum 



TEE FIRST PARADISE. 



341 



up the whole, we can only say that it is a boundless, shore- 
less prospect that we have failed in measuring. To have a 
title to this inheritance is to have a deed of heaven, a man- 
sion in the Celestial City, and all that pertains to, and groweth 
from, a happy, endless life ; but to know fully what it is, one 
must stand on the safe side of Jordan, and, in the shadow 
of the great white throne, look down the long, long vista of 
ages, and feel the spirit-swellings consequent upon the thought 
that the richness of the inheritance is only then begun to be 
revealed. 

Something we are permitted to know of it here. We cannot 
commission messengers to spy out the land and bring us back 
a report ; but it has pleased the great Monarch of the realm to 
give us so much description that we cannot be misled in the 
more important peculiarities. We are not to know its location 
now, but we do know it is a pleasant inheritance, for all the 
ideas of pleasantness the imagination can boast we are warranted 
in associating with it ; and even when these, in their utmost 
fertility, are exhausted, we are told that it is but a small part 
of the actual. 

Who of us can imagine what Eden was in its original beauty 
and loveliness, before the trail of the serpent was discoverable 
there ? There is nothing upon earth now that bears even the 
faintest resemblance to it : if the place is in existence, not a 
trace of its former glory remains to tell the traveller where inno- 
cence dwelt. He who penned the story of the creation has told 
us it was a w garden," and that " every tree that was pleasant 
to the sight and good for food " was there ; and we know there 
was nothing to mar beauty in those early days, when man and 
woman basked in the smiles of their Maker, and the sunshine 
of love bathed everything in light and joy. Everything was 
fresh from God's hand, and bore the impress of divine beauty ; 
and we therefore suppose that all things were radiant with love- 
liness — such loveliness as we have never seen or known : and 
yet Eden, in its highest style, could never compare with God's 



342 



TEE SECOND PARADISE. 



second Paradise, which he has prepared for his redeemed ; for the 
tempter will never enter there, and what is beautiful will forever 
remain so, with no blight or curse. 

The first Paradise showed forth God's love, power, and glory ; 
but the second illustrates it more perfectly than the first ever 
could. While the first pair were sinless, they roamed amid 
bowers and groves that charmed every sense ; but those who 
enter upon their eternal inheritance in the heavens, who walk 
in the garden of sweets divine love and beneficence have pro- 
vided, will always be sinless, and always dwell among delightful 
things. They will have no fear that the celestial scenery will 
change, or that they will be ever sent forth to less congenial 
pursuits and prospects. 

Yes, Christians have a precious inheritance I Mourning, 
disconsolate one, walking in a thorny way, where the heart is 
often pierced, bow not thy head in despondency ; look upward 
and onward a little way, and behold how fair a prospect opens 
before thee. There will be nothing there, in all the long way, 
to pierce the soul through, for it is a thornless region. Here 
we often pause to weep over some fresh heart-laceration, but 
there will be no more occasion in the Canaan above. 

Then there is this very striking peculiarity : those who enter 
upon the heavenly inheritance, and breathe the airs of Paradise, 
find their cheeks mantling with eternal bloom. They have 
perpetual youth. There is no growing old in the vale of im- 
mortality, no decay of the faculties, no diminution of power, no 
wearing out of the mental constitution, bringing those sad and 
unwelcome changes which we so often see here, in our friends 
who are nearing the prescribed boundary of existence. It stirs 
our grief and makes our tears flow to see those we love be- 
coming so unlike themselves through the influence of disease or 
age, and we wish they would not grow old so soon. We wish 
we could stay the wrinkles and the furrows in the hitherto 
smooth and placid brow ; that we could prevent dimness of 
vision, and all those things which are the premonitions of a 



PERPETUAL YOUTH. 



343 



failing body ; but there is no relief. We must see the "wheel at 
the cistern" becoming constantly more unfit for use, with the 
consciousness that ere long we shall find it altogether ceasing in 
its revolutions. We must see the "silver cord" becoming less 
and less capable of extension, and we are continually beset by 
fears lest almost unawares we find the w golden bowl 99 broken, 
and see the " pitcher at the fountain " an empty and useless 
thing. Age and decay meet and shake hands, each finding in 
the other the expected sympathy, but the mutual recognition is 
limited to earth and time, for as soon as one steps over the 
borders of the heavenly inheritance, he is stamped with the seal 
of everlasting youth. The cycles of eternity will run their 
destined rounds, and bring no change to the vigor and freshness 
which the immortal spirit will feel in its allotted course. There 
is something in the " ethers of immortality " that keeps the spirit 
ever fresh and ever young, so that there will never come a 
point in its history when the most prolonged action will be a 
weariness. Where in all human history, in all fabled life, is 
there anything that bears the remotest comparison to this ? To 
be always active and never to grow weary, to be always living 
and never to grow old, is the privilege of the inhabitants of 
heaven; and all those who, through grace, are permitted to 
walk its streets, will find themselves in possession of this 
same boon. The most illustrious and useful of earth are often 
laid aside and compelled to close their eyes upon half-finished 
schemes, because their powers were too short-lived for the 
purpose ; but the broadest plans of eternity will never remain 
unexecuted for this reason. The ambition and interest which 
prompted the elaborate plan will be equally fervid in the com- 
pletion, equally ready for new and different action, if so be 
the divine glory be concerned, and the divine approbation se- 
cured, as it always w r ill be there. O blessed land of perpetual 
youth, that allows such free and continued expansion ! It is 
like the inspiring, invigorating breezes of spring after a long 
and cheerless winter. O, it is more ! but the " more " must 



344 



TH£ MEASURELESS JOY. 



have a sealed significance, since "eye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard," all the sights and sounds of that land, — 

"Where saints immortal reign." 
It must be a wonderfully salubrious climate. There are w no 
chilling winds, no poisonous breath," and those who have dwelt 
very near the walls on this side have talked of " ambrosial 
gales," and " perfumed breezes ; " but we know that imagination 
has much to do with this, and at the same time we know also 
that the air must be very pure to insure perpetual youth, and 
perfect freedom from all sickness and disease. 

We have heard some discoursing of " bowers that are ever 
green and fair," of "flowers of amaranthine tints," of birds that 
warble most melodious notes, and have exquisite plumage. It 
may be that flowers dot the margin of the " crystal stream," and 
birds may sing in the boughs of the trees on either side ; but 
these are matters that the inspired historians have not deemed 
of sufficient importance to speak of. We are thankful they have 
written of the "pure river," and the "tree of life, whose 
leaves are for the healing of the nations," for these form the 
basis of cheering hopes. If they are simply figurative, they 
nevertheless remind us of something that is very precious and 
desirable. It makes us sure that fruit of celestial growth is 
exceeding rich, whatever it be, and that the " river of the water 
of life" is a current of eternal love and bliss. Let "foreshad- 
ows " and " foresplendors " be what they may, they cannot 
exceed the "riches of the glory of the inheritance" that is 
promised to the believer. "It w r ere enough," said one, "to 
have glory ; but to have a f weight of glory,' and this f eternal,' 
it is amazing." A view of it hath, as it were, flooded the soul 
of the Christian, so that he has been overpowered almost, his 
feeble senses being scarcely able to bear the rich effulgence. 

" Glorious things " are indeed spoken of the New Jerusalem, 
" the city of our God." What will it be to stand upon the lofty 
battlements of that city " which hath foundations " ? Looking 
out upon the broad inheritance, the redeemed soul can say, It is 



SINLESSNESS TEE CEOWNING GLORY. 345 



all mine. O, what felicity to roam the fertile plains with such 
companions and guides as will be found there ! What joy to 
trace out the wonders of the universe, the workings of those 
mysterious laws that have hitherto baffled all attempt at under- 
standing ! What satisfaction to be a successful explorer, and 
see light bursting upon those things that have always been as 
intricate problems to my feeble but searching mind ! All these 
things are but a small part of the attainments which those 
will make who are accepted pupils of the Most High. 
They are comprehended in its riches, and its glory, and it 
is no trifling consideration with the Christian scholar to know 
that every obstacle in the way of improvement will be re- 
moved; that every possible advantage will be given for the 
constant acquisition of something new and valuable ; that the 
senses will be so perfect and appreciative that there will be 
no tedious and wasting labor in this part of heavenly employ- 
ment. Surely this is peculiar to heaven. There is nothing 
like it below, so that we feel assured that earth is not the 
better land. We may have our study here, our chosen themes 
of meditation, our favorite sciences, and be devoted to them; 
but we find no more persistent guests than weariness and 
exhaustion, and are compelled to yield to their influence, 
though the train of thought be but half projected, and the 
first principles of science be hardly grasped ; but in heaven 
it will no more be said that "much study is a weariness to 
the flesh." In that land of everlasting youth and vigor, the 
dark-eyed visitors will never dare to venture ; and O, what 
swift progression without their frequent interruptions, rather 
with no interruption at all ! 

But talk as we will of the varied and peculiar joy which 
awaits the titled saint, we never reach the highest ideal of fru- 
ition until we speak of it as a sinless inheritance. This is the 
crowning glory — the climax of all. Ask the sin-sick, bur- 
dened soul, grieving over the long catalogue of sins which has 
risen up before him, what is his highest aspiration, and will he 



346 



THE EVIL OF SIN. 



not say, "To be free from the dominion and power of sin?" 
Ask the zealous Christian who is endeavoring to conform his 
life and will to the standard of the gospel, what he desires 
most, and the earnestness of his tones will tell the burden of 
his heart, as he replies, " To be delivered from the bondage 
of sin." Sin is the curse of our world. It brought "death 
and all our woe," and to it may be traced every evil under the 
sun. It is that with which the Christian has to contend in all 
his journey to the world of light. Oftentimes he finds himself 
almost overpowered by its influence, and well nigh faints by the 
way. Then the thought comes into his soul, inspiring new 
courage, " There is a world without sin, and I will renew my 
zeal, redouble my energy, in the attempt to win it." It is an 
" exceedingly evil and bitter thing," but there is such a thing, 
through grace, as winning the name of conqueror. But the 
effects of sin are not only visible in individual life and charac- 
ter ; the disturbed and disturbing forces of the physical world 
bear testimony to the fearful prevalence of the evil, and who 
can tell how far the influence extends? " When man, as the 
lord of creation, for whom sun, and moon, and stars were made 
to know their orbits, sinned, they shrunk from their courses, 
turned in dark frowns toward him, and the reign of night and 
death began. Even if none of the heavenly orbs that stand 
related directly to the earth had changed their relations to it, 
if the earth itself has changed in its writhings under the curse, 
it was sufficient to introduce the reign of gloom and death. 
There are evidences in abundance of such change of relation. 
The earth itself is held in its orbit by antagonisms ! — by a 
force driving it away from its centre, and another force restrain- 
ing it, like a sinner poised in the point where God's justice and 
mercy meet ! Now, what are some of the effects of this abnor- 
mal relation of things ? We answer, the introduction of various 
disturbing forces, unceasing collision and friction, wearing and 
tearing, blighting and blasting, and a ceaseless war of opposing 
interests and laws ever crossing each other. As results, we 



MATERIAL WORLD AFFECTED BY SIN. 347 



have extremes of heat and cold, of darkness and light, and the 
laws of gravitation ever hurling back into primeval dust all 
forms of life that struggle after permanence and perfection. 

" Hence we have barrenness and gloomy solitudes — in the 
polar regions snow, ice, and pitiless frost; in equatorial climes, 
plains of burning sand, without blade, flower, or smiling foun- 
tain ; and in places intermediate, a mixture of these. We have 
sweeping storms, which fly over us like angels of death. We 
have floods, which seem to have no law but their own rage. 
We have internal fires, that hiss like serpents in their dens, and 
shake fearful tongues of flame from out the tops of mountains. 
We have earthquakes to cause old earth to groan to its centre, 
and to shake at its poles, while its crust opens as a demon's 
jaws from the pit, ingulfing landscapes and cities ! " All this 
is occasioned by sin ; and in view of it, can any say it is not 
such a w bitter thing " as God represents it ? Had it' never 
come into the world, we should have feasted ourselves with 
beauty and harmony, where we now are condemned to the pain- 
ful beholding of deformity and discord. Was it nothing to have 
this change wrought ? In our inmost souls do we not feel there 
is a very great difference between pleasing and painful emotions ? 
Had not the world known the evil, there would have been no 
cause for discord and unpleasant sensation in all the wide 
earth. From one extremity of the globe to the other, the ele- 
ments of nature would be found in perfect repose, or working 
out most fitly the counsels of the Creator. They shall indeed 
accomplish his high behest now ; but sin is abroad, and the pen- 
alty is affixed, and therefore will the earth quake and the moun- 
tains pour forth fire. This physical disturbance, however, in the 
universe, fearful and extensive as it is, is not like that which has 
been introduced into the moral nature of man. There it has 
done a fearfully tremendous work. There are volcanoes, earth- 
quakes, and floods in the moral world, whose fiery streams 
deluge and lay waste what would otherwise be fertile places in 
the soul, bringing forth the fruit that God loves to see. All 



348 



WATCHFULNESS NEEDED. 



the tumults of the soul, all the heart's unrest, all the appre- 
hensions of mind, all the tortures of conscience, and all the 
rebellings of will, are attributable to but one source, and that 
is sin. It makes life one general scene of confusion and dis- 
tress, and sends us forth, poor creatures, on a storm-tossed ocean, 
exposed to a thousand dangers, sometimes, indeed, spanning our 
way with a so-called " bow of promise," but doing it only that 
it may deceive more effectually and ruin more entirely. From 
the time the fatal act was consummated in the groves of Para- 
dise, man went forth in a devious way to be led blindfold by sin, 
and since that moment it has invariably sought the complete 
control of each- succeeding generation of mankind. 

ft Sin has a thousand treacherous arts ; " but let a jubilant 
anthem go pealing through the galleries of time, losing itself 
among the bright arches of heaven, because a "living way" is 
prepared in which sin is vanquished — unequal to the contest. 
The doings of sin are very sad in our hearts, in the world. We 
feel it, and we deplore its power, and turn more gratefully to 
the promised inheritance because there is no more conflict with 
the enemy on that peaceful shore. Jesus, the " Captain of sal- 
vation," is victorious over all ; and through the influence of his 
grace we may triumph over the foe, and ultimately wear a 
crown in the Paradise above. 

" Halleluiah to the Lamb, who has bought us a pardon ; 
We'll praise him again when we pass over Jordan." 

We wonder not that the spirit of the beloved disciple was 
stirred with unutterable joy when he was " caught up " so near 
the heavenly world that he heard the song of the ransomed 
ones ; nor that the chorus of the song was a loud strain in 
honor of Him " who had redeemed, by his blood," and brought 
a multitude to so goodly a heritage. Surely it is the chief ele- 
ment of heavenly happiness, the highest of all joy, that there is 
cleansing from all sin. If the heart swells with grateful love to 
the Eedeemer, it has only to pour out its loving tribute into his 
willing ear, without the distractions and variations that are so 



GREAT INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS. 349 



often attendant upon our highest and best thoughts and feelings 
here. But we cannot particularize. Everything that can be 
desired is found in a sinless world. Lost harmony and order will 
be restored. The " Paradise regained " will be more than we can 
imagine ; and who would not have such an inheritance as this ? 
You whose daily song is that of the poor, — 

" No foot of land do I possess, 
Or cottage in the wilderness," — 

you may be rich — you may enter in and take possession of 
the rich fields of Canaan — you may have a mansion in the 
City of God, where the streets are paved with gold, and the 
inhabitants live in the most delightful concord. Ye who are 
sad 3 and weary of the heavy woes of mortality, look up — 
there are no burdens to be borne amonsr the saints in light. 
They left them all this side of the wall, and went in singing and 
light-hearted to their new possessions, and so may you. 

Those who are troubled at the seeming triumph of sin, of 
injustice and oppression, may take comfort in the thought of the 
" prepared world," from whence all these things are excluded. 
O, blessed is the inheritance of the saints — great the joy in 
reserve for the righteous. There must be beauty and joy, 
there must be peace and love, where there is no sin. There 
must be perfection — full, complete perfection. Then it is a 
perfect inheritance. Christian, it is thine — it is thine. Go 
joyfully forward to the goodly prospect. Go trustingly, yet 
carefully onward, for a world of sin lieth between thee and it. 
In all the way keep an eye fixed upon the far-off dome of the 
Celestial City. Life is a pilgrimage, death is the gateway, 
and full fruition awaiteth you beyond. Until the hour of pos- 
session come, — 

" Be faithful and true, 
Keep Canaan in view." 



350 



NEGATIVE BLISS. 



CHAPTEE XXII. 

NEGATIVE BLISS OF THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

Relations of Negation and Affirmation. — Bible Bepresentations mainly neg- 
ative. — Characteristics. — No Curse. — No Death. — No Banger. — No 
Sorrow or Mourning. — Blessedness of those who enter. — Perfect Vision. 
— The whole Being complete. 

" No sickness there, 
No weary wasting of the frame away, 
No fearful shrinking from the midnight air, 
No dread of summer's bright and fervid ray ! 

" No hidden grief, 
No wild and cheerless vision of despair; 
No vain petition for a swift relief, 
No tearful eye. no broken heart, are there." — Anon. 

To know what a thing is not is to know what it is. The 
negation of one thing is the affirmation of another. Thus, if 
we say that a certain man is not prosperous, we are understood 
to mean that circumstances prove adverse to him, — that he 
finds the reverse of prosperity. If we say that one is not 
happy, we mean that he is unhappy ; and if one is not poor, 
that he has an independence. If we have negative consider- 
ations of condition and character, the actual state may be 
predicated. 

Then, when we are told what heaven is not, we conclude 
what it is. The absence of one thing is the presence of 
another by actual law. If darkness prevail not, then it is 
light. In the moral world, if right does not exist, then wrong 
does ; if there is not sorrow, then there is joy ; if there is not 
love, then there is hate, or at least indifference. 



NEGATION AND AFFIRMATION. 



351 



In the spiritual world, if one does not discern its peculiar 
beauty, if he does not see the worth and appropriateness of 
objects, and thus loses their power for the elevation and devel- 
opment of his higher nature, we say of him that he is blind. 
He is morally blind, and there must be a change wrought 
before he can see. We form our opinions in great measure 
by negatives — our opinions of places, men, and things. If it 
be said of one portion of the world that the climate is not cold, 
then we associate with it heat ; if the soil is not fertile, then 
we suppose it sterile. If it be said that the inhabitants are not 
intelligent, and that the government is not stable, and not 
wanting in tyranny, it is equivalent to saying that it is a very 
miserable country, without the requisite elements of good order 
and society. 

The opposite may be likewise argued, if we may pronounce 
negatively upon all the evil principles which are the bane of 
prosperity, for the absence of all evil is the presence of all 
good. This is what made Eden so lovely before the fall. 
There was no evil there, and this was all comprehensive in 
affirmations as to what was there. So when the inspired 
writers tell us what is not in the New Jerusalem, we know 
very well what is there, for the theory of opposites is not 
wholly Socratic. 

The Bible representations of heaven are in great measure of 
a negative character ; and in considering them the Christian 
will, at least, find his heart swelling with holy joy, that so 
much is not there which has been and still is the destroyer of 
his peace on earth. He will exult in the exclusion of every 
enemy of his soul, in the final extinction of every unhallowed 
passion, and that sin in every form has no more dominion over 
him. When he finds that it is said of his future home, that there 
is no sin there, his soul, so sick of sin, is ready to cry out, "It 
is enough. The absence of sin is the presence of everything 
my soul desires." Life and joy can never be wanting in a 
world where all is pure and holy. 



352 HEAVEN BEPBE SENTED BY NEGATIVES. 



Tell me of a place where there are no unhappiness, and no 
cause for any, and do I not know that I should be supremely 
happy there, though the particular elements of that joy be 
unknown to me ? 

Tell me of a world where are no deformity and no blight, 
where transparent light falls upon objects that have no sign of 
withering or decay, and do I not know that it must be a most 
attractive spot, the very consummation of beauty, although I 
cannot define a single characteristic of that all-embracing love- 
liness ? 

Do we not feel that it is a very desirable place, when we 
are assured, "there shall be no more curse"? In this sin- 
disordered world there must be law, and where law is there is 
penalty, and where this is there is fear ; but all these things 
are done away in the land where there is no sin, and conse- 
quently "no curse," at least so far done away as to leave no 
room for fearful penalty. Doubtless there will be laws in 
heaven ; but there will be no resistance to law, but saints 
themselves be its living fulfilment. Do we not feel that it 
would indeed be a blessed thing to have the curse removed — 
we who feel so deeply its abiding and far-reaching power ? 

It is "a rising up against, and an interfering with, the har- 
monious course of the originally established order." We know, 
that our earth wears a different aspect since the introduction 
of the curse, and that man, physically, intellectually, and mor- 
ally, is not what he would have been if he had never incurred 
the displeasure of the Almighty by his aggravated sin. It was 
no limited portion of earth, or mankind, that was visited ; but 
everywhere, and upon everything, the darkening, degenerating 
influence is felt. What a transformation appeared in the 
vegetable kingdom ! According to the original order, it was 
to yield its offerings to the gratification and welfare of man 
in rich spontaneousness. True, there were to be pruning and 
tillage, but they involved only the activity necessary for pleas- 
ing variety — nothing like the sweat-inducing labor that was 



THE CURSE OF BIN. 



353 



afterward requisite to remove the " thorns and thistles " which 
threatened to choke what the human race really needed for 
their sustenance. With the curse there came the necessity for 
toil. It was forevermore to be associated with man's earthly 
history. The earth was no longer ready to yield her glad 
tribute, unasked and unsought, pouring it out at the feet of 
man, a continued and generous libation ; but he was to labor, to 
wring it out, to have his bread moistened with sorrow, until he 
should find himself sinking, by very weariness and disappoint- 
ment, into the earth from whence he was taken. There was 
no alternative. If man would live, he must conquer the means 
of living from soil that had suddenly become very grudging, 
even though it were at a painful cost of those resources he 
prized the most. Once the animal frame was a stranger 
to everything but vigor, freshness, and gladness ; but after 
the curse, it knew weariness, languor, and depression, in- 
stead. 

There was to be unceasing demand for labor, and less capa- 
city to endure, for a long train of physical evils came with the 
others. The vast disturbance of forces in the universe doubtless 
affected the physical destiny of man ; but in his own frame, 
so curiously wrought, so perfectly made, there was a sad, a 
serious disturbance when the curse came. Before, there were 
never such friction, such chafings and jarrings, in the intricate 
and delicate machinery as now. Then, too, the stream of life was 
but in one direction. Afterward there were currents and coun- 
ter-currents, which would always make progress a doubtful and 
difficult matter. Oftentimes the body will not work with the 
mind, or the mind with the body. The mental forces cannot 
always be accounted on for steady and effectual action. In 
this, too, we deplore the effect of the curse. But who can 
measure the extent of these things? The derangement and 
disorder it has occasioned are past calculation. Here and 
there in the earth, at the sound of human footsteps, venomous 
serpents lift their heads and hiss, as if to taunt man with the 
23 



354 



MORAL DESOLATIONS. 



story of his fall. Angry and destructive beasts prowl around 
his pathway in the wilderness. There are wide deserts, where 
the eye rests upon no green or living thing; but, as far as 
the moral exceeds the natural, so much more dreadful is the 
heart-waste that has been induced. Love, affection, benevo- 
lence, and all the graces and virtues were more vigorous and 
lofty in Eden than they were outside, and the moral foes, too, 
are more to be dreaded than the fiercest beasts of prey in the 
world. We had rather see Sahara in its sandy gloom, though 
it should take a much larger portion of creation than it does, 
than to see a single heart desolated by the fires of passion, and 
blasted by the fearful simooms of malice and envy. A heart- 
waste is a melancholy sight ; but O, how many have been seen 
under the curse ! 

The poisonous serpent and the hungry tiger have each a 
deadly power at command, but at most they can only tear the 
covering from the kernel, which they are powerless to harm ; 
but they who find themselves captives, under the dominion of 
that most merciless of all foes, sin, are in danger of suffering 
eternal disadvantage by reason of the embrace. 

There are no foes like those which hunt for prey in the 
moral field. There are no desolations in all the earth more 
dreadful than these when they gain their end. Their path is 
the trail of the Destroyer. It is the blackness of ruin and the 
desolation of death. All this cometh to our sin-cursed land. 
O, the depth of the misery that is thus occasioned ! But all 
this is to be escaped in heaven ; " there will be no more curse " 
there. Pilgrim to the holy shrine, dost thou realize whither 
and to what thy footsteps tend? 

As there are hopes born into the soul, which kindle most 
delightful sensations, and are yet wordless because of the 
sweetness and extent of their power, so is the Christian im- 
pressed as he reads this description of his heavenly home, 
"There shall be no more curse." With this single idea, a 
thousand others come crowding to tell him what is, where the 



NO MORE CURSE. 



355 



curse is not, and for a time he almost fancies that he breathes 
the air of that radiant shore, 

" Where the people are blessed, and sin no more." 

Serenity, of heavenly origin, broods over his spirit, and he 
feels like hastening on to that blessed place, where there is 
happy exemption from all sin, and the curse is no more known. 
Thank God that he has told us this ; that he has given this 
knowledge, and permitted such anticipation, while struggling 
with our numerous foes in the conflict of life. When the 
battle waxes strong, and the fainting heart and failing energy 
tell of weakness, we may find ourselves inspired with fresh 
zeal and courage, as we hear a voice above us saying, "There 
shall be no more curse." 

When Sorrow spreads her raven wing about us, and Afflic- 
tion folds us in her heavy mantle, the same cheering words 
may help us to throw off the leaden weight, and rise toward 
the land that is free from sin and all woe. The thought of 
such a place is as a cordial to the soul continually ; but the 
hope of finally reaching it is an untold solace in all the ever- 
recurring seasons of emergency and conflict here. 

Circumstances may conspire to make earth seem dark and 
dreary ; but the " gloom-inspiring marks of the curse " are not 
found over the line that defines the boundary of the heav- 
enly Paradise. And " there shall be no night there," no 
necessity for such an interruption to labor, because of the un- 
waning strength and endurance of the physical system. There 
will be no more significance to " tired nature's sweet restorer ; " 
no more need of resorting to divers expedients for that sooth- 
ing influence, without which the body languishes here, and is 
unfitted for the most trivial demands. As it is, the relations 
of earth and the conditions of men make the alternation of 
day and night inevitable and mostly agreeable, though the 
associations connected with it are strictly characteristic of our 
mundane sphere. Necessities make things welcome, while 



356 



NO NIGHT THERE. 



at the same time we deplore the existence of the necessity. 
Night to the weary laborer is a season of grateful and neces- 
sary rest ; but if there were no weariness, if one from day to 
day could engage in the pursuits of active life, and still know 
unabated vigor, the period between sunset and sunrise would 
be only an unwelcome break in his career. To men of ambi- 
tion who love achievement rather than ease, it is often regarded 
so now, and they have made to themselves long days for the 
more speedy prosecution of schemes by which they have hoped 
to benefit themselves and the world, and in consequence have 
seen their physical energies die out in the noontide of life. 
Night is a necessity to our race of feeble and limited capacity, 
and we adore the wisdom and exalt the goodness that made 
such ample and kindly provision for actual need ; but adora- 
tion and wonder reach loftier heights when we think of the 
celestial and brighter world, in which there is "no night," 
because no necessity for it. Notwithstanding the ideas of 
quietness and rest are invariably suggested by the night- 
season, yet how much of sorrow does it know ! How many 
tears have been shed under cover of the night, how many sighs 
wrung out from broken hearts, and how many groans extorted 
from those who would fain escape the spirit-crushing influence 
of some deed which never appeared so dark as in the dark 
night. How many weary ones have longed for the light, 
as they counted the clock-beats that measured out the mo- 
ments so slowly and painfully, as if to prolong the misery 
of the sufferer ! Tossing in the restlessness of pain, the 
silent watches have been filled with longings and regrets ; 
but even then, if the spirit yield itself to the subduing and 
chastening influences of the gospel, it sees the stars of faith 
and hope gleaming in the midnight sky, it catches a glimpse 
of the near and nightless land, and the pain becomes lighter, 
the couch softer, and all by the joy of final entrance into 
a world where there shall be no weary nights. The sable 
curtains will never be drawn around the inhabitants of the 



NO WEARINESS IN HEAVEN. 



357 



"Better Land," and the Christian knows it, and rejoices in 
this blessed peculiarity of his eternal home. There will be 
no lonely watchers there about beds of pain ; for whoso lieth 
down upon the silken couches of love, as spread by the Eternal 
hand, lies down to as perfect a rest as can be conceived. 

Activity, too, will bring no weariness. The holy energies 
of the redeemed soul, in the celestial world, will doubtless find 
occasion for constant activity ; and what emotions can we im- 
agine to possess such a one, if, in the midst of some blessed 
employment, he should see the dim twilight merging into the 
deeper darkness of night, and thus find the suspension of his 
joy for a season? O, it cannot be so, "for there shall be no 
night there ! " 

"Behold, now, what conceivable and inconceivable advantages 
rise to our view in the field of reflection thus laid open before 
us!" says Harbaugh, in his considerations of "the heavenly 
place." 

" 'There shall be no night there,' is to say, ' There no depen- 
dent or secondary planets exist.' There, consequently, none 
of the unpleasant extremes involved in day and night are found. 
There no dark night-sides of nature cover the lovely face of 
paradisian realms. No cycles in the heavenly worlds ever 
cause the joyous life of the saints to ebb back from the waking 
energies of bliss into dull stupor, under the overshadowings of 
darkness and gloom. That world needs no repose ; for life, 
in right relations, is rest in its own peaceful flow of bliss. The 
ebbings and Sowings, which the transition from extremes of 
light and darkness, and of consequent heat and cold, produce, 
belong only to a world of imperfection. 

" In the night all things are hushed ; all life ebbs back to- 
ward its source ; all energies, like f weary, worn-out winds,' fall 
fainting upon the earth, and a solemn prophecy of death, in 
deep, sepulchral tones, murmurs over land and sea. Flowers 
fold their beauties to their hearts ; birds, like the captives in 
Babylon, hang their harps in the branches, and sing not in a 



358 



NO MORAL DARKNESS THERE. 



strange land. Man, feeling the somnific sympathy, thinks no 
more, but wanders in dreams ; and, instead of enjoying, he lies 
like a senseless clod, in the dull absence of all joy. But be- 
fore the words, f There shall be no night there ! ■ all these signs 
of imperfection, which here have their cause in the arrangement 
of the objective world, have forever passed away. There all 
nature, basking in unsullied light, smiling in the purest joy, and 
blissfully tremulous in the thrill of eternal life, dawns in upon 
the spirits of the sainted without measure and without end ! " 

There are those who understand night in a different sense, 
and give it such an interpretation as to mean that there is noth- 
ing in heaven of which night is the emblem ; no darkness, 
ignorance, or superstition. We have had long moral nights in 
our world, periods of fearful gloom, and they have been deeply 
lamented, because of their influence ; because that which is 
true and good is not developed, but left to droop for want of 
light, its appropriate element. 

When we speak of a night of error, or superstition, how 
much is involved ! What pitiable tales it tells of dwarfed minds 
and hearts, what gloomy records of society, and of the long-felt 
misery entailed upon it, in consequence of the night ! 

Passion and prejudice, offspring of darkness, love these sea- 
sons, and, in their chosen ways, seek to prolong their reign. 
But they that love truth mourn over these dreary and wasting 
periods. Mental and moral darkness is no anomaly here ; but, 
looking upward, we -may say, "There is no night there." The 
soul shall always dwell in light, always be developing in 
the sunshine of eternal truth. Then will be realized what 
it is to 

" Walk in the light — in the light of God." 

And "there was no more sea." A great part of our globe 
is unfitted for the habitations of men, three fourths of the 
earth's surface being covered with water. Nations and coun- 
tries are divided by it, and communication with them becomes 
a slow and dangerous process. Bands of those who go forth 



NO MORE SEA. 



359 



on various errands are annually swallowed up by the angry 
ocean. The sea is merciless. Multitudes who have confided 
themselves and their treasures to its keeping now sleep where 
it laid them, and what they valued has been deposited in the 
lowest chambers of the deep, hid away from all mortal gaze. 
O, what treasures has the sea gathered ! How many loved 
ones has it buried, never giving the consolation to mourning 
survivors of knowing the place where their dead repose ! They 
only know that the last resting-place is " a lone sea-bed," where 
the hoarse and sullen waves are ever chanting dirges, and where 
the sunlight never falls. We look at it when it is calm and 
placid, every drop sparkling in the sunbeams, and we think of 
a jewelled tomb, in which a great many loves and hopes are 
buried. It may be beautiful, but weeping friends forget the 
gilding in the absorbing grief over what it contains. The 
gates of the sea-tomb are often thrown open, and hundreds go 
in together. The people start back, appalled at the sight, and 
pass on, while desolate hearts, in cottages and hamlets, think 
ever of the inexorable sea that has taken their joy. Those who 
would go to distant lands on holiest mission must needs find 
their way hard by a mighty sepulchre, the shadow of it always 
resting upon them. 

But the sea is necessary. The earth is dependent upon it, 
and we upon the earth ; therefore we and the sea are closely 
linked. From it come the life and freshness of the vegetable 
kingdom, the dew and showers which feed our life and min- 
ister to our comfort. It has a great replenishing work to do 
in this world, and it does it well. The sea is beautiful in its 
serenity, grand in its commotion ; but we cannot help thinking 
it must be a better land where there is no more sea. It is a 
barrier to the activity of man now; it is one that will not 
exist there. Life, too, will have no such dependence there. 
The air of heaven will be delightfully bland and refreshing, but 
its fruitage will not be nourished by the sea, for there is none 
in all the land. At the call of the Judge, "the sea shall give 



360 



NO MORE SICKNESS. 



up its dead," and a marshalled host shall come forth, and those 
who have Canaan's title at hand shall pass in, rejoicing that 
there is no more sea. 

That must, indeed, be a blessed, a most desirable, world which 
boasts this threefold exclusion — "no curse," "no night," "no 
sea." Our minds associate woe and unrest with all of these, 
more or less ; and there is nothing in all our life-journey that 
we crave so much as exemption from woe. We cannot have 
it where all these things exist ; but we hail with joy the as- 
surance that there is a world where they are not. But, to notice 
still further, there is no more sickness. The inhabitants of the 
celestial country " shall not say, I am sick." In all that land 
wasting disease is not known. The "noisome pestilence" will 
never be permitted to invade that healthful shore, making its 
victims among the fair innocents. No malaria will be feared, 
for " the sun shall not smite by day, nor the moon by night." 
And is there nothing in this ? Is it nothing to be delivered 
from such fears ? We are troubled and affrighted at the ap- 
proach of an epidemic that sweeps numbers into the grave, and 
avail ourselves of all the means in our power to prevent its 
attack upon us and our friends ; but, notwithstanding, it may 
prostrate our forms and break the circles that we have guarded 
so jealously. A great deal of life's sorrow is occasioned by 
sickness. Look at the invalid, who, for weeks and months, 
has been confined to a chamber of suffering, with flesh and 
strength wasting, and tremulous nerves quivering at the 
slightest touch or sound, while the mind, from unavoidable 
sympathy, is forced to cease, in great measure, from its wonted 
activity, or, perhaps, is so much more sensitive as to torture 
the weary body. It is poor humanity reduced to helplessness, 
with neither power nor energy to arise. It may be one taken 
from his daily employment, upon which those that are dearer 
to him than life are dependent for their comforts, and much 
privation and hardship are involved. It may be one that is ambi- 
tious of working out a worthy and glorious destiny, and it lays hini 



TEE TRIAL OF SICKNESS. 



361 



aside, to change the whole plan and purpose of life, and shows him 
no prospect but that of struggling along with a painful burden 
upon his spirit, that must ever be a check to all protracted effort. 

Or it may be one with burning zeal to effect much in a good 
cause, whose soul is consecrated to the work of preaching "the 
unsearchable riches of Christ," that is prostrated, and at the very 
outset effectually stayed from the prosecution of the work which 
lies so near his heart. It makes no difference what their posi- 
tion or calling may be ; whether they be rich and great, or poor 
and lowly ; whether they be fitted to do much or little : sickness 
visits all, and we say to ourselves, How mysterious ! 

Oftentimes the visitation seems very strange, and we mourn 
that so many plans are thwarted, so many hopes blasted, and so 
much promising fruit destroyed. We see the young, the 
beautiful, and the gifted reluctantly yielding to the dread power, 
and the maimed, crippled one, living on year after year, every 
lineament of his countenance strongly testifying to the severity 
of his pain. Our feelings of pity are kindled, and we shed a 
sympathizing tear for him whose constant companion is disease. 
Sympathetic natures will share in the woes of mankind ; but 
outside of their common lot, there is always a private circle, 
sometimes wider and sometimes narrower, that is more im- 
mediately affected, and upon the sanctity of their grief few dare 
to intrude. Who has not known the sad heart-convulsions 
that are experienced by those who stand by the bedside of a 
beloved one, when for the first time the consciousness is forced 
home that it is the last sickness ? None can tell the agony of 
such a moment ; there are no words for the description of that 
struggle ; and yet these struggles are multiplied until in all 
the earth is heard the low wail of mourners because the dear 
objects of love are passing away. We may feel, and deeply 
deplore, the influence of sickness and disease upon ourselves, its 
many and varied disadvantages ; but all this may be borne with 
fortitude if we may see health smiling upon the loved counte- 
nances of those about us, if those in whom our lives are bound 



362 



NO MORE PAIN. 



are free from the dire embrace of the foe. But if we are so 
happy as to reach heaven, we shall both be free ourselves and 
see those we love smiling in perpetual youth and health forever. 
Here sickness and disease make their victims look prematurely 
old, and bring on decay at an early period ; but there, where 
sickness is never known, age and decay are alike strangers. 
Imagine a countless throng, " whom no man can number," and 
not one among them in the least impaired by sickness or feeble- 
ness, not one faltering in the most vigorous exertion because 
he fears a painful reaction. Ah ! it would seem that the poor, 
distressed inhabitants of earth, suffering so much from sickness 
in its thousand forms, would be greatly attracted to a world of 
which it is said " the inhabitants shall not say, I am sick." 
Even selfish love might prompt to almost any sacrifice to gain 
deliverance from an evil so much dreaded. " O, if we could 
only be free from sickness ! " is the ejaculation that we have 
often heard from the lips of desponding, disheartened ones. 
Under these circumstances it is counted the highest earthly 
happiness to be in possession of health. Wealth would be freely 
given to purchase it, but this cannot avail to procure the price- 
less boon always, nor often ; yet God has made it one of the 
attractions of his heaven that there is no sickness there, and the 
conditions of obtaining heaven are the easiest possible. Who 
would not seek to enter in at any price, to escape so many and 
so great evils ? 

" Neither shall there be any more pain." " The former things 
are passed away," and there is no more cause for pain ; but we 
allude not so much to that which is associated with disease. If 
there be permanent health of body, there are no painful sensa- 
tions of the physical nature, but there may be heart-pains which 
are worse than all these, and they are felt quite as keenly by 
those with sound body as by others. There is much of sadness 
and restlessness that is akin to pain, the cause of which can 
scarcely be told. In the lone and solemn hour of twilight, when 
spiritual" things are more vivid, and earthly things less so, how 



HEART PANGS. 



363 



often have the bowed head and silent tear told of inward pain ! 
The soul has been conscious of a great want, and at the same 
time painfully felt the utter insufficiency of everything about it 
to satisfy the demand. The clamorous heart-craving has urged, 
"Give, or I die ; " and failing to receive, life itself has been the 
sacrifice. 

There are aspirations which are never to be realized, and 
which eat down into the soul, causing more suffering than less 
ambitious ones can conceive. The struggle of aspiring genius 
with misfortune has in some instances almost rent soul and 
body apart. It is far more painful to an eager spirit, that loves 
activity, to be compelled to relinquish effort, than it would be to 
task energy to the utmost in a coveted field of labor. In these 
heart-struggles there is pain. The sudden blighting, too, of fond 
loves and hopes is another source ; and the convulsive throbbings 
tell what words will not reveal, what they cannot, for there is 
something that never yet was told of that mysterious process by 
which the delicate chords of the human soul are loosened and 
broken, and left to flutter and sway because of nothing to attach 
themselves unto. Those who have had experimental knowledge 
of the fearful rupture, might speak of wounds that never heal, 
and of pain that never dies out ; but deeper than this is an un- 
spoken something that saddens and shortens life, and robs all 
things of their brightness. 

Even the sun is scarcely bright to one pining with heart- 
sickness ; he is enveloped by shadows, turn which way he 
will, while ever and anon he presses his hand upon his heart 
because of the pain. If he engage in festive scenes, where 
others are mirthful and glad, his thoughts and affections are 
lingering elsewhere, among broken and fallen things, and the 
present has less of influence than the past. We cannot enumer- 
ate the sources of pain in this world. Disappointment comes in 
a thousand forms to the children of men, each bringing its own 
peculiar smart, under which the writhing and tortured spirit 
must struggle. Sorrow comes through numberless channels, 



364 



DEATH A CONQUEROR HERE ONLY. 



often pouring in upon the soul like a flood, sweeping away what 
it had counted its walls of strength, and the suffering produced 
amounts to agony. There is no escape from it. One may 
traverse sea and land, and on remotest shores he finds that 
with change of place he keeps the pain. 

Mortals have no panacea for the pains of the soul. A prep- 
aration to heal the broken heart is above human skill. Pain 
does and will exist in our fallen world, in human hearts, in spite 
of mortal intervention. There is no respite until the spirit passes 
through the everlasting gates into that place where there shall be 
no more pain, where the heart shall find full and perfect satisfac- 
tion, and where the chords of the soul will attach themselves to 
objects that can never fail. There will be no more pain from 
broken heartstrings there ; and this will be a joy to those who 
have felt the anguish of their sundering here. Joyous intel- 
ligence ! heaven has balm for the pains of time — sovereign, 
effectual balm. 

" Look up, thou stricken one ; thy wounded heart 
Shall bleed no more at sorrow's stern control." 

Thou shalt live without a single painful emotion when thy feet 
shall tread the shores of immortality, — 

" And there shall be no more death." 

The Destroyer will never pass through the golden streets 
never send his arrows, never aim his darts at one and another, 
cutting them down in the midst of enjoyment. He is the de- 
stroying angel in this world, and here only. Where love is 
fondest and hopes are strongest, he is present, apparently loving 
a choice harvest. Heedless of cries and entreaties, he enters 
the circles which affection most zealously guards, and, laying 
his icy hand upon the fairest, takes it to his embrace for his 
own. He takes the infant in its sweetness, the youth in his 
loveliness, the man of business in the prime of his manhood, 
as well as the hoary pilgrim of many years, who has lived out 
nearly his appointed time. He stays not, he asks not for will- 



DEATH A CONQUEROR HERE ONLY. 3G5 



ingness or readiness, but, ready or unready, willing or un- 
willing, they must bow to his stern decree ; they must go at 
his bidding, however strong the ties that bind them to earth. 
With slow and silent tread, in all seasons and at all times, he 
marches on, desolating homes and thinning the ranks of men. 
Engaged in our wonted pursuits, we are ever and anon startled 
at the fall of one and another that we have known and loved. 
Like "a thief in the night" he approaches unawares, often 
giving no sign of his coming ; but, taking his prize, he bears 
it away to his own realm, and we see it no more. Truly it may 
be said, " Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! " He 
is always abroad in the land. We never know when he may 
come in upon us. 

" Day is for mortal care, 
Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, 
Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; 
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth." 

How many of us have seen the foe come in upon us when 

we thought ourselves secure ! I remember such a time, when 

the heart-tendrils had been loosened a little, but had twined 

themselves again more strongly than ever around a loving and 

happy child, and hope was growing sanguine concerning fruit 

of rarest excellence. Disease had come and gone, apparently, 

and we counted upon years of increasing joy. We folded 

the dear child of our affections to our hearts, and rejoiced in 

the restoration of a treasure which we fondly hoped to keep 

for our own. Just then Death came and seized it, bore it away, 

and hid it from us for all time. We murmur not, because we 

know he executed the commission of a higher power; but 

we are led to think more of the world which Death does not 

invade. 

Again, I remember how the spectre came between us and 
new-born hopes, and quenched the light of anticipation as in a 
moment ; how, in an instant, it buried the expectation of hearts 
forever, leaving us to feel, in the bitterness of our souls, that 
there is really nothing abiding upon earth. And this is not 



366 



DEATH'S CONSTANT RAVAGES. 



isolated experience : we have all been witness to similar scenes, 
and we all know that there is " a time to die," and that it cometh 
on apace. There is no day without its death-scenes, no hour 
but, somewhere in the world, Death pauses on his journey to 
call out new victims to swell his ranks, and as often are heard 
the wailings of grief because they must go. If there be such 
a thing as the light of life going out, it is when we stand by 
the clay-cold form of one that we have loved, and see last 
written upon everything. The last word has been spoken, the 
last smile bestowed, the last look given, and the last loving 
pressure of the hand been felt, and all is still with the one who 
has walked and talked with us. There is no more interchange 
of thought, feeling, or affection, and within are a vacancy and 
anguish that cannot be told. 

We may look down into the depths of the soul as into a gulf, 
and tremble, not at the "forms crowding it," but at the ever- 
recurring consciousness that living, breathing forms which were 
wont to leave light and joy wherever they went, have been 
seen for the last time ; for Death takes, but never restores. 
He is a grim monarch, and shows no pity, and his subjects 
are those whom he chooses, and his realm is the wide world. 
He works as he wills, sometimes slaying thousands, and again 
taking but one from a family ; now prostrating one in the 
glory of strength, and passing by one that has long been 
waiting for his coming ; still again pausing at the threshold 
of the weary, and sending a dart into the bosom of the hopeful 
and buoyant. He is universally dreaded. "I can take pain 
and sickness to my home," said one, "for there. may be mitiga- 
tion for the one and restoration from the other ; but death puts 
an end to all hope, and leaves me only the sad necessity of 
hoping no more." The greatest of all misery is that which 
death brings. One may have trouble, disappointment, and 
sorrow, and, amid the intensity, imagine that all the billows 
are gone over him ; but if he is unvisited by the angel of death, 
he has yet a cup to drink that he knows not of. There is some- 



NO DEATH IN HEAVEN. 



367 



thing in this mixture peculiarly bitter. It is harder to drink 
than any other potion that is presented to mankind. We speak 
now of death as an evil in the world, without reference to the 
preparations and pledges which Christianity oiFers to make it 
seem not only less terrible but even a gain to die. 

Death does exist, and by seeing what desolations it makes 
in the earth, what grief it awakens, and what loneliness it 
occasions, we may look up, and better appreciate the grateful 
contrast when it is said, "There shall be no more death " in 
the New Jerusalem ; and if there be no death, then there is 
no mourning. But we are not left to mere inference in this 
particular, for it is said in the place where all sayings are true, 
"The days of thy mourning shall be ended." 

When the suspicious garment was presented to the patriarch 
Jacob that silently proclaimed a tragic scene in the life of his 
favorite son, he saw nothing between him and the grave but 
mourning. He looked down the rest of his pilgrimage, and 
everything conspired to make it seem a mournful period. So 
we have heard of those — perhaps seen them — who have buried 
all their smiles and all their joys in the grave. They left them 
there when they lowered some precious form, a seeming legacy 
to the departed, and they go about their daily walks, sad and 
forsaken, themselves finding a shorter path to the "voiceless 
chambers " in consequence. With sable robes, and equally 
sable hopes, they go about the business of life, because they 
must ; and their sorrow is deep and real. But few, if any, 
understand the peculiarity of their grief, and therefore the ful- 
ness of sympathy is denied them, and they go on mourning 
alone. There are weary days and nights ; burdens upon the 
spirit that weigh it down, and fearful seasons that none but 
God knows. Stricken ones, there is no mourning in heaven. 
It is ended there ; not a sign or a symbol of it remains. There 
is no mourning over sickness, for all are well there. There is no 
mourning because of the ravages of Death, for he can never 
invade those blessed regions of light and love. There are no 



368 



SOURCES OF SORROW. 



tearful, mournful burials there, with slow procession winding 
sadly along. These belong to earth, and while they are seen 
and known there will be mourning, for none can bear the 
friends and companions of life to the congregation of the dead 
and not mourn in anguish of spirit. " Would to God I had 
died for thee ! " has been the expression of many since the 
day in which the doting heart of David mourned the sud- 
den fall of his beloved Absalom. It has been felt in many a 
humble home, when the light of love has gone out forever, — 
in many a heart that has seemed utterly forsaken, because the 
idol was removed from its place. 

There will be no mourning because of unrequited love. It 
is productive of keen sorrow to love with the unquenchable 
ardor of a sensitive nature, and find that love poorly, if at all, 
reciprocated. To be willing to make sacrifices in order to per- 
form, continually, acts of kindness for the benefit and gratifica- 
tion of one we love much, and then see them unappreciated, 
will always and inevitably create heart-sadness. But there 
will be nothing of this in heaven. 

There will be no mourning because of decaying friendships, 
for they never cool there. It is one of the sorrows of this 
world, to see our friends grow cold, negligent, forgetful, with- 
drawing not only the profession, but the more valuable tokens 
that tell of a kindly interest at heart. These tilings are conse- 
quent upon our imperfect social state, and they all produce 
sadness, but they are done away in heaven ; and more than 
this, all other evils are so far removed that there is no mourn- 
ing there. O, happy exemption ! Well may the soul of the 
believer kindle with a holy joy, as once and again he is told 
that the things he dreads find no entrance into the bright world 
to which he goes. Take heart, ye who mourn over the blighted 
fields of your care ; look to the green plains beyond — " there is 
no more sorrow there." It flees away before the tide of bliss- 
ful joy that sweeps on, "in one delightful stream," through all 
the heavenly country. The long-drawn sighs that we know 



NO TEARS IN EE AVE N. 



3G9 



indicate sorrow of heart, and are fed from the life's fountain, 
are forever banished from the land above. " Sorrow and sigh- 
ing shall flee away." 

There will be no tears in heaven. " The voice of crying 
shall be no more heard." "Long, long eternities must we fol- 
low the Lamb before meeting one whose eyes are red with 
weeping." Never, in all the intercourse of heaven, with all 
the ransomed host that people the land of the evermore, shall 
we find the moistened eye that tells of sorrow and suffering. 
"The spiritual eye does not secrete tears." The exhortation 
to " weep with those that weep " is applicable only to proba- 
tioners of time. There is no occasion for sympathy in the 
upper world, at least in the sense in which it is regarded here. 
" All tears are wiped away, and the redeemed only rejoice with 
those that do rejoice." < 

The meetings and greetings of friends are often answered 
here only by the silent flow of tears, because of mutual be- 
reavement and remembrances, that stir the fount of grief within 
to overflowing ; and it speaks a depth of sorrowful feeling that 
words are powerless to express. The sight of such emotion in 
strangers kindles the flame of compassion, and we feel the 
sympathetic tear stealing down our own cheek for unknown 
woe. The whole world is called a "vale of tears," and pil- 
grims go journeying on, wetting pillows and graves with their 
tears. We find them everywhere. "I shall never forget a 
little incident of foreign travel," says one. "After months 
spent in noting points of resemblance and contrast between 
other countries and our own, — after viewing persons in all sit- 
uations, from the throne downward, — one day, in the street, I 
observed a lady in tears. Among the thousands met with, this 
was the first instance of visible grief. It was impressive. 
The thought at once arose, Then they weep here, too ! Here, 
as on the western continent, are tongues charged with venom ! 
And sensitive hearts are beating and bleeding as at home." 
It is ever thus. 

24 



370 



THIS WORLD A VALE OF TEARS. 



" The world is telling 
Startling things of human woe, 
While ten thousand hearts are dwelling 
On the griefs but One can know." 

Neglect, unkindness, and wrong in any form, wring out 
tears from sensitive souls, and cause heartfelt anguish; and 
there are seasons in the history of almost every one, oft-recur- 
ring hours, when the fountain is unsealed without apparent 
cause, and sadness subdues the spirit. It is a peculiar earth- 
sadness, and will vanish on the other side, for "the voice 
of weeping shall be no more heard " there. So too there is no 
danger there. " They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy 
mountain, saith the Lord." Timid souls may roam at will, 
and fear not the slightest trouble. Fearful apprehensions are 
strangers to those that dwell in Paradise. There was no fear 
in Eden before there was sin there ; so there will be no fear in 
heaven, where sin is not. In this sin-abounding world we are 
exposed to danger on every side ; and at different periods of 
its history we see it the occasion of fearful danger, and even 
death, to espouse Christianity, the best and only pure thing that 
we know. In every century outrages that kindle righteous 
indignation to think of them, have been perpetrated against 
the friends and followers of goodness and truth. 

Dangers, seen and unseen, thickly beset our individual 
pathways. In the midst of our happiest songs, in our gayest 
and lightest moments, we maybe on the verge of some terrible 
disaster, that will change every glad note into one of saddest 
woe. Prospects may never seem brighter and fairer than 
when a cloud of deepest darkness is about to pour its floods 
of gloom upon us. 

The light-hearted children of a large company on a railway 
train were singing merry songs in highest glee, and while yet 
the words were upon their lips, a fearful collision silenced their 
voices forever. The sound of the Pemberton crash is still 
ringing in our ears, and that momentary burial of so many 



NO DANGERS IN HEAVEN. 



371 



human creatures will not soon be forgotten. One moment in 
the confidence of perfect security, and the next struggling, or 
beyond the reach of struggle. Verily, "in the midst of life 
we are in death." Dangers thicken, and we know not what 
is but just before us. A step forward may be to a fearful 
experience, and yet it must be taken. Everything is done 
at risk that we attempt ; and how often do we feel that a 
sense of security would lighten the heaviest task ! That feel- 
ing, in its perfection, is known only in heaven. There may 
be something of it in this state of uncertainty; but perfect 
freedom from every danger, complete deliverance from all fear, 
is the boon of the saints who have conquered and dwell in 
Mount Zion above — that holy mount, where "nothing shall 
hurt or destroy." 

If there are mountains in the New Jerusalem, the fearless 
inhabitants will find the loftiest heights accessible, without fright- 
ful precipice or anything to make afraid. There is no danger 
there. Be it valley or plain, hill or dale, serpents never hiss 
there, and poisonous plants never grow. O, blessed are the 
fearless band — blessed they who tread celestial ground ! " There 
shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth." In pro- 
portion to our hatred of sin, in proportion to the extent in which 
we comprehend the effects of sin, will be our appreciation of this 
blessed knowledge. What a charm has perfect purity to the 
Christian, mourning over the power of indwelling sin, and its 
manifestations about him in society ! Everything is tainted with 
selfishness, or bears the marks of some other passion, so that 
oftentimes even innocence of expression is made the instrument 
of torture to the well-meaning one, and he feels the necessity of 
a rigid scrutiny of thought, word, and action constantly, lest, in 
unguarded moments, an influence go forth that shall be perverted 
to his own hurt, or the injury and reproach of others. Virtue, 
that should be " pure and undefiled," is rare. Christians love 
it, and they will see it in glorious form and proportion when 
they pass the threshold of their heavenly home. It is sullied 



372 NO DEFILEMENT OB DEFEAT IN HEAVEN 

here, but unsullied there, for nothing that defileth entereth 
that place. Not a stain — not a "spot, or wrinkle, or any 
such thing" is found there. 

Besides, there is no fruitless labor there. "They shall not 
build and another inhabit." Not that there will be selfish ap- 
propriation of anything. The law of love is the only law, and 
perfect benevolence will therefore fill and actuate every heart, so 
that labor through motives of self-love and desire for promotion 
will not be known at all. All things will be in common, and 
what is the joy of one will be the joy of all ; not, either, that 
there are no degrees, no difference of capacity or taste ; but the 
mainspring of action will be alike in all, and that is love — pure, 
perfect love. To gain for self will not enter into the calcula- 
tions of the saints. They " can look, year after year, at the 
jasper and topaz in the foundation, at the immense pearls in the 
gates, and at the pure gold everywhere, without once wishing 
to appropriate anything to themselves." Covetousness is the 
growth of this lower sphere, and stays this side. Pilgrims 
throw it down before they go in, as something wholly unfit for 
the holy place ; and it is. Doubtless there will be labor in 
heaven : it may be constant and unceasing, but it will all be to 
some noble end ; it will all yield the richest return. Fruitless- 
ness of labor, and consequent disappointment, will never be 
experienced, for there will be perfect understanding and perfect 
aptness in every new thing that is attempted, and complete 
success will always crown all effort. Upon how many schemes 
of time is written defeat, over and over again, until patient and 
hopeful inventors despair, and perhaps abandon them altogether ! 
Should they prosper, they might, or might not, be productive of 
great and good results ; but in heaven there are glorious results 
connected with every achievement, for it is begun, prosecuted, 
and ended in the highest wisdom. Tired laborers of earth, you 
may plan and build, spend and lose, and have little good of 
" labor under the sun ; " but in the " better country " " they shall 
not labor in vain, nor bring forth for trouble; for they are the 
seed of the blessed of the Lord." 



ONLY GLIMPSES OF GLORY HERE. 



373 



" They shall build houses and inhabit them ; and they shall 
plant vineyards and eat the fruit of them." 

They are to dwell there forever, to reap rewards ; and w r hat a 
harvest it must be ! What glorious sheaves must those be 
which the saints gather on their rich plains ! Travellers to the 
future world, is there no charm in such possessions as these? 

If we do not know everything there is in heaven, w r e yet are 
blessed in knowing that a great many things are not there. If 
it were not for this and that, " I should be perfectly happy," 
have we not heard many say? Those things are not in heaven. 
What is it to be pure — perfectly pure ? Who can tell ? The 
thought is rapturous ; but methinks the rapture is inconceivable 
that will thrill the whole spiritual being, when it shall be filled 
with intensity of joy, occasioned by the consciousness, "I am, I 
shall ever be, where there is no sin." Imagine what it will be 
to have no cause for the shedding of a tear, or the breathing of 
a sigh ; to see no sickness, feel no pain, and experience nothing 
that is mournful. Conceive, if possible, what it will be to have 
eternal sunshine, a land without curse or sea, without danger 
or defilement ; and say, is not such an inheritance infinitely more 
desirable than any or all things that are yet known ? What a 
blessed, a glorious representation ! What can compare with 
the Celestial City ? It is no marvel that those who are almost 
there have so much of gladness — that they are so eager to 
plume their wings and soar away into such a region as heaven. 

Think of the blind convert from Hindooism saying in his last 
moments, "I see, I see ! " and what did he see? He saw this 
bright world of which we are speaking, he had a glimpse of its 
beauty, and under the impression he exclaimed, "I glory," and 
expired. Thrice blessed those to whom the King shall say, 
"Come, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world." 

Heaven is, indeed, a "prepared place," but it is for a "pre- 
pared people." 



374 BLISS OF TEE EEAVENLY WORLD. 



CHAPTEE XXIII. 



POSITIVE BLISS OF THE HEAVENLY WORLD. 

Whisperings of Prophecy. — Music an Element of heavenly Bliss. — Joy of 
actual Service. — Varied Affirmations. — The sealed Brow. — Wondrous 
Light. — Best. — Exemption from painful Sensation. — The Way open 
through the Atonement. — Euman Conception inadequate to the Formation 
of so perfect a Eeaven in Thought. 

" What realm lies forward, with its happier store 
Of forests green and deep, 
Of valleys hushed in sleep, 
And lakes most peaceful? Tis the land of Evermore. 

" On that joyous shore, 
Our lighted hearts shall know 
The life of long ago : 
The sorrow-burdened past shall fade for Evermore." — Anon. 

"Perhaps it is most becoming," said Socrates, in speaking 
of a future world, "for one who is about to travel there, to 
inquire and speculate about the journey thither ; what kind we 
■think it is." Shall a philosopher of the dim twilight reason 
thus, and we of the noonday act otherwise ? Shall we, who have 
the " sure word of prophecy," the firm promise of a blessed im- 
mortality as the reward of faithful obedience, shall we be indif- 
ferent to the slightest thing concerning the great future, or what 
regards the journey thither? It is called the great Unknown, 
and perhaps with some propriety, since mortal comprehension 
must fall below the truth ; yet we are richly favored with some 
knowledge respecting it — enough to kindle a steady flame upon 
the altars of faith and hope, and give strength to desire. God 
singled out and commissioned holy men to tell us of his works 
and ways, and when the volume was well nigh finished, and 



WHISPERINGS OF PROPHECY. 



375 



the last writer took up his pen, he had such views of the re- 
splendent glory of the final home of the faithful, that he poured 
out his soul in the description, and yet found it inadequate to a 
full display. Prophets and evangelists had rejoiced in the 
whisperings, that had come to their ears from the Holy Spirit of 
the establishment of a peaceful realm made glad by God's pres- 
ence, and apostles had been cheered in " great tribulation " by 
the assurance of good things to come, which was divinely 
granted ; but to none was given such rich and full communica- 
tion as to him who loved much, in the days of Jesus ; who was 
taken " in the spirit " to behold the magnificence of heaven, and 
the glory within. Others had told us what it is not, but John 
tells us what it is ; and from the combination issues a complete- 
ness that was never before reached — a splendor and richness 
of coloring that were never before revealed. 

It was not a faint reflection of the far-off, when he stood 
upon the "high mountain," and was showed "that great city, 
the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God," and 
having his glory. It was no dim and doubtful radiance coming 
into his soul, but light, exceeding the brightness of the sun, 
from the very centre of the " holy city " itself. He saw the 
jewelled walls, the pearly gates, and golden streets, and heard 
the sweet songs of those who dwelt there, and came down to 
teach mortals the notes, that they might be fitted to join in the 
anthem when they should be carried in the spirit to the moun- 
tain of the Lord, the heaven of his love. It was not the 
sweet echo of distant, melodious sound that gently stirred the 
holy emotions of his soul, for he stood where he caught dis- 
tinctly the words of the song, and it was this that kindled all 
the love of his ardent nature, for he cherished sentiment kindred 
to that which it inspired, since he knew no virtue save that 
infused by the life-giving blood of Him to whom the glad trib- 
ute was rendered. 

It was joyous music to him, and it will be to all the re- 
deemed. When the first ransomed spirit entered the gates of 



376 



MUSIC IN HEAVEN. 



Paradise, " a new song " was begun, that shall increase in rich- 
ness and power as new voices swell the delightful symphony. 
Music will be one of the attractions of heaven. We know not 
much of the soft-tonecl instruments of the place ; but there are 
harps there, and those who play on them touch the strings to 
loftiest note. Never will be heard more thrilling melody than 
proceeds from the celestial choir, for its members have been ed- 
ucated by a Master whose advent here angels heralded with 
songs of peace — peace begun on earth and perfected in heaven. 
Heaven's arches will ring as the ransomed ones join in one 
mighty chorus, to sing of the salvation that has been wrought 
for them by the Lamb. " Their glorious Leader claims their 
praise," and with " one united breath," they will " ascribe their 
conquest to the Lamb, their triumph to his death." They 
will sin 2f of deliverance, and sweet will be that sono- to those 
who have long been oppressed. They will sing of " bless- 
ing," and it will fill the bosoms of the saints with ineffable 
praise ; of " honor," and it will be grateful indeed to those 
who have loved uprightness ; of " glory," and it will excite 
untold sensations of bliss ; of " power," and it will inspire 
devout recognition of a guiding influence that has led them on 
to such perfection. They sing, too, of the " forever ; " but who 
shall describe the sweetness and fulness of that strain, " Salvation 
to our God"? As they chant it, they turn reverently and 
adoringly " to Him that sitteth upon the throne," for it is he 
who wrote the words and set them to such blissful music. 
All idea of song is centred in this. Not a note or a strain 
wanting to make it the most perfect harmony that ever en- 
tranced the soul. 

It was ravishing to John's spirit as he heard it, and the re- 
membrance of it never died out. So much did it influence him, 
so ardently did he long to mingle his songs with theirs, that 
almost his last recorded words are, "Come, Lord Jesus," — as 
if he would hasten away from all other things and employments 
to engage in so divine a service as singing to the praise of Him 



MUSIC IN HEAVEN. 



377 



he loved, in his immediate presence. Ye whose souls are tuned 
to song, who find special delight in this loved employment, 
there is music in heaven. Its every influence upon the char- 
acter will be highly ennobling and inspiring. Those, too, who 
cannot sing here, will be admitted to the choir above, for there 
they will understand the measure of that tune which exalts 
Him who reigneth omnipotent and holy, for it is love that 
inspires "heaven's sweetest lays, and fills its shining courts 
with praise." 

And there are such "whose bosoms glow with love," and 
consequently have the best preparation for striking with effect 
the heavenly harps when they are called to the assembly of the 
saints in the Jerusalem above. We have heard music here that 
has kindled ecstasy in the soul, and sent thoughts and desires on 
and up after the perfect ; but, after all, the sweetness of heavenly 
music cannot be conceived. Holy, song-loving soul, there is 
much of this — there is enough of this to enrapture thee in the 
land whither thou art tending. There are ten thousand sweets 
floating upon the summer air. We cannot gather them up, 
and yet we know they minister abundantly to the happiness of 
the senses. There is always something that eludes our grasp 
when we attempt to catch and confine this heavenly sweetness 
here ; but we know it will pour its glad influence over the 
whole being when we stand with those that sing " Alleluia " 
on the celestial shore, and breathe the air of heaven. That 
which is sweet here, we know, will be sweeter there. Song 
has a heavenward tendency to pious souls. " What the wings 
are to the sky-mounting lark is sacred music to my soul," said 
one ; "it bears my soul to heaven." We know that the Swiss, 
exiled from their mountain homes, are strangely affected by one 
of their own national songs. At such seasons their hearts are 
melted into tenderness, love, and longings, because of the asso-. 
ciations of home ; so the songs of Zion often affect the Chris- 
tian who is away from his heavenly home — an exile upon earth. 
They remind him of things which his soul loveth, and to the 



378 



THE SIGHT OF JESUS IN HEAVEN. 



full fruition of which he hasteth. Blessed are they who shall 
sing the Lord's songs in his own land. 

It is also written of such, "They shall see his face." Whose 
face? That of Jesus, their Beloved — that of God, their 
Friend. Every channel of communication that can be opened 
between us and an absent friend does not satisfy us. It is 
always regarded a very poor compensation for the living, actual 
presence, to receive the few and imperfect forms of thought 
afforded by a narrow sheet. Every attempt of this kind makes 
us long to annihilate time and space, that we may be reunited 
with the object of love, see face to face, and pour out the heart 
fully and freely. The loving heart feels that union is the height 
of joy. The pleasure is manifest in every feature, and the whole 
countenance beams with unwonted gladness ; but what meeting 
can compare with that of the Christian and his Lord? The 
burden of letters from the loving and absent is, " Would that we 
might meet," so that free interchange of thought and affection 
might be enjoyed, untroubled by misconception or anything 
of the kind. There is no love like the divine love, and nothing 
to be compared with its blessed interchange. It is pure and 
perfect. It satisfies the soul ; therefore, when the saint meets his 
Lord face to face, there will be nothing more for him to ask. 
The smile of welcome that will beam from the face of his Re- 
deemer will fill every aspiration and satisfy every desire. The 
"Come, blessed " will enable him to lift up his head " with songs 
and everlasting joy," for the longed-for meeting has come, and 
there will be no more parting — he is forever with the Lord. 
There are no more pining and regret by reason of absence, no 
sending of communication, and no fear that it be not rightly di- 
rected. There is no more anxiety lest the union never be realized, 
for all fear is lost in the blessedness of the result, the actual behold- 
ing of that face which hath " overpowering charms," and the actual 
recognition of that delightful sound, after all the fears and stru£- 
gles of his life-absence, "Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 
There he shall always look upon the face of the Anointed One, 



LIGHT OF CHRIST IN HEAVEN. 



379 



and ever discover some new trace of beauty and excellence. 
To lose sight of it, would be to lose the peculiar attraction of 
the holy city. It is the light of the celestial sphere, the glory 
of the heavenly place. 

The removal of one smiling, loving face from our household 
upon earth is the occasion of much sadness, and we go about our 
daily avocations mourning because of the withdrawal of so much 
light and love ; and if it is not spoken audibly, we at least 
whisper to ourselves that this world is dreary, because some- 
thing has come between us and the sunshine of our life. Yet 
it were better to lose sight of everything else rather than the 
face of Jesus. There is no heaven for the soul anywhere, 
unless it can have the presence of its Eedeemer. Then it can 
rest, and then only, when it can look into his face and read its 
eternal and glorious destiny. There is no doubt, for it is ex- 
pressly written of believers, that when they reach their home 
in the City of God, the "banner of love" shall be over them, 
and " they shall see his face " — the face of their Saviour. We 
have seen the fond, earnest, lingering gaze ; we have seen eyes 
meet with expression that told attachment stronger than words 
could express, and the sacred seal of friendship has been ap- 
plied with a warmth produced by heart-action, and we have 
thought the scene touching, and the love fervent, and said there 
must be happiness in this ; but there is no meeting that can 
symbolize that which shall take place when " the ransomed of 
the Lord shall return to Zion," and see him face to face. There 
are so many elements in this that are wanting in all other meet- 
ings ! Everything is perfect, and the holy soul rejoices in the 
full appropriation of it. It is bliss without measure, joy with- 
out restraint. 

"His servants shall serve him." The idea of service, may 
not be altogether pleasant to some. Indeed, they turn away 
and refuse entirely allegiance to the King of heaven, having no 
sympathy with him, and no delight in his ways. To such there 
is nothing attractive in the expression, " his servants shall serve 



380 



SERVICE FOR CHRIST IN HEAVEN. 



him." It is rather the reverse — dull, and repulsive ; but there 
are those that think and feel otherwise. John felt so when he 
was favored with the vision that made his soul flame w T ith 
desire to be in the heavenly place, and engage in the delightful 
service of saints. Ask Whitefield, Edwards, Nettleton, and a 
host of kindred spirits, what is chief and best, and with one 
united voice they say, to be counted worthy to be employed in 
God's service upon earth, and have that service perfected in 
heaven ; and it is not from a few only of the eminent ones who 
dwelt on the heights of Zion, but from all retired and lowly 
places comes the same witness, It is good to serve the Lord. 
There is nothing that yields such rich returns, nothing that 
gives such perfect satisfaction, in all emergencies and under all 
circumstances, as this. The service of the world brings weari- 
ness of body and heaviness of spirit ; it chafes the conscience 
and induces regret continually, thereby rendering life "like a 
wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed ; " while the 
Christian on his way can speak of "calm and serene'*' frames, 
which enable him to pursue truth and duty effectually, though 
it involve much labor. There are no maxims of worldly pru- 
dence the practical application of which accomplishes so much 
for the children of time as the short and simple direction of the 
apostle, " be fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." By the latter 
all things are done to advantage, and service becomes invested 
with the highest possible meaning. We are made for this. 
However reluctant we may be to acknowledge it, yet in our 
heart of hearts we cherish the conviction that there is noth- 
ing to compare, in beauty and desirableness, with the service 
of the divine Saviour. There is nothing more enviable than 
to be truly called a servant of the Most High, to have a 
divinely-recognized familiarity with the Great Master ; and those 
in the enjoyment of this are in no way more affected than by 
the infinite condescension which allows such a relation, and their 
own inability to meet its demands. With a devout and grate- 
ful appreciation of the goodness that brings them to such terms, 



TRUE SERVICE IS FREEDOM. 



381 



they go on rejoicing, and yet mourning that they can do so 
little, where so much is merited. They count it their highest 
joy to be a servant of Christ, to sit at his feet, to learn of 
him. To their souls, the lowliest place, if Jesus look down and 
smile upon them, is a "gate of heaven," through which they 
discern glorious things which await them when the period of 
earthly service ends, and the heavenly begins. "Blessed ser- 
vice ! " said one of these ; " I would know no other ; " and he but 
echoed the sentiments of many others. It matters not so much 
to what they may be called. Everything is done cheerfully and 
well, for their thoughts are with the "well done," which shall 
issue from the lips of their Master when he shall bid them come 
up higher, and engage in better and more congenial employ- 
ments — better because more perfect — congenial because the 
minglings of sin appear no more. It is this that makes the 
Christian heart appreciate so much the expression, "his servants 
shall serve him." It is this that invests the heavenly service 
with such indescribable charms, and awakens the longings of 
pious souls for its full enjoyment. 

There may be something menial in serving an earthly 
monarch, something degrading in occupying the position of a 
servant, as men of the world regard it, but there is nothing of 
this in obedience to Christ. There is no title so enviable as 
" servant of God," none that implies so good and lasting an in- 
heritance. There is none so much to be coveted. To be the 
possessor of a whole world, of countless worlds, would not be 
so much as to be counted a faithful servant of Jesus. The 
advantage such large empire would bring to the soul would 
be as nothing in the comparison. 

Angels serve the Lord with gladness. They fly on swiftest 
wing to fulfil the commands of their Sovereign, whether it be 
a nation's weal, or that of a single, humble individual ; and to 
what loftier position could saint or angel aspire to than to wait 
upon God? Let the commission be what it may, the re- 
deemed will hasten to its execution. It will be felt to be 



382 



LOVE MAKES SEE VICE PLEASANT. 



enough to stand before the throne, and go at the divine bid- 
ding, in furthering the great designs of Him who sitteth 
thereon. 

Love makes any service pleasant. It will make the heav- 
enly inconceivably so. Know, then, this, O Christian, of thy 
endless home — " His servants shall serve him." When thou 
shalt expand thy wings, and mount up into the sky, pass the 
sun, and gain thy Father's house, " and drink with angels at 
the fount of bliss," thou shalt experience the freedom of ser- 
vice — such service as will be a perpetual delight in the soul. 

Moreover, "his name shall be in their foreheads." There 
will be no mistaking any of all the flock that wander through 
the green pastures of the better land. The Great Shepherd 
will know each one of the mighty multitude ; for his name is 
written upon them as an everlasting seal. In glittering letters 
the name of Jesus will appear upon the brow of every saint. 
Pearls and diamonds fade away before this priceless ornament. 
Richest gems and costliest crowns shrink into insignificance 
and lose their brilliancy in the contrast. Victors in Olympic 
games, in ancient times, were crowned with various garlands 
of evergreen, according to the merit of achievement. These 
were the signal for triumphal shouts from an enthusiastic 
crowd, which sent exultation to the hearts of the honored 
ones. The laurel was full of significance ; it spoke of triumph, 
and every leaf was valued for this. Honor was associated 
with it, and it designated those who had been so faithful as to 
win. They counted success in this direction a glory ; but how 
does this compare with that of him, who, victorious over sin, 
passes through the gates of the Celestial City to have the 
name of Jesus written upon his forehead, which is forever to 
distinguish him, among the host of God's elect, as a true and 
triumphant conqueror ? There is no glory like unto this ; no 
triumph that bears any comparison with it. A crown of laurel 
withers before a crown of righteousness. The holy characters 
traced upon the brow of the ransomed one, who has run the life- 



SAINTS WEAR CUEISTS NAME. 



383 



race, and readied the goal, will constitute a coronal that will 
never lose its brightness and beauty. It will shine through 
the limitless ages a perpetual witness, to tell what has been 
wrought. To the victor himself it will serve to keep him in 
remembrance of what he has passed through, the difficulty 
and danger. Ever, as he beholds it in the transparent mirror 
of heaven, he will be gratefully reminded of what it cost, and 
be conscious of a new and deeper thrill of joy that uncertainty 
is removed, and the final victory won. 

Henceforth he is to be known by the name that is upon 
him. We know of bands who have their own significant 
emblems. They are known by the badge they carry, — a 
key, perchance, may lock secrets that must not be revealed, 
or a pin may clasp what the world may not know. 

So there are fraternities, with mysterious signs that insure 
the recognition of kindred souls the world over, though they 
may never have met before. These are their talismans, as it 
were. Once lost, and they feel like the mariner without com- 
pass or chart to guide him on his perilous voyage. 

There are companies that are known by their uniform ; or- 
ganizations that are known by a word around which wide- 
spread associations cluster, and all to distinguish the members 
as a peculiar class, a separate people, having obligations from 
which others are exempt, and enjoyments which others may not 
partcipate. Their name and office are stamped upon them ; they 
glory in these ; but Transient is the appropriate inscription 
for them all. They are imperfect, perishable, and unsatisfying. 
Such may boast of union, but not infrequently it is disunion. 
They may talk of advantage ; but not seldom it is damage 
in the highest degree. The gain may be considerable, or it 
may be doubtful ; but there is no doubt among the company 
who stand on Mount Zion, with the name of Jesus written in 
their foreheads. This is a heavenly organization, complete 
and perfect, and the union is close and loving. They are, 



884 



TEE SOCIETY OF THE SAINTS. 



indeed, a peculiar people, having pleasures that others know 
not of. The password of those who enter is Jesus, and there 
is no concealment. It is written out plainly — a beautiful and 
glorious frontlet, which appears for the mutual admiration of 
all saints eternally. It is a bond of sympathy between them. 
By this they recognize their oneness with each other, and with 
Christ. Wherever they go, they behold the name and the 
image of Him whom they love. To them Jesus is the sun and 
centre, and his name they choose above all to have written 
within and without, to have appearing and sounding continually 
and constantly. Blessed are they who belong to the company 
of Christ, who join the society of the saints. They have their 
badge, and carry their sign, and they tell of secrets that are 
never revealed save to those who come into membership. The 
full advantage cannot be realized except one be initiated into 
the holy mysteries ; except he be brought into full fellowship, 
and know and understand by experience what meaneth the 
communion of saints. A blessed and honorable distinction 
awaiteth all such in the kingdom of the blest ; for, when " his 
name shall be written in their foreheads," they shall be "kings 
and priests " with such power and dominion as they have never 
before known or conceived. 

Earthly thrones and sceptres speak of honor and prefer- 
ment ; but the one is only a breath, and the other short-lived 
and temporary, with fear and anxiety to imbitter it. Who 
would not rather have " the honor that cometh from God," 
and wield the peaceable sceptre of righteousness with no dimi- 
nution or decay, under circumstances that preclude all possi- 
bility of danger or doubt? 

Such is the position in prospect for all the subjects of grace 
who come into the holy order of the redeemed with the spirit 
that becometh them. They shall stand before the great white 
throne with dignity and honor ; for He who sitteth there 
beholds his seal, and recognizes his own. Aspiring soul, 



REST LONGED FOR. 



385 



be this thy care, to secure the priceless and imperishable 
ornament for thy head, the name of Jesus. 

Another most delightful affirmation of the heavenly state 
by another apostle, is that of rest. 

" There remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people of God." 
He who penned this sentence was fitted, in a peculiar sense, 
to appreciate this element of his future life, and multitudes 
upon earth who are faithfully prosecuting a slow and perilous 
journey to the immortal land, are moved likewise with the 
same feeling. Tribulation and persecution did an effectual 
work of discipline for the nature and heart of Paul, and, 
amid the faintings of the one and strugglings of the other, 
he was cheered and sustained by the consideration of what 
was coming. Though often weary and toil-worn with wast- 
ing labor, grateful visions of the future came up before him, 
and he saw a long season of undisturbed rest, that would 
fully and perfectly compensate for the most protracted earth- 
weariness ; besides, holy effort might give it new charms, and 
bring more to enjoy it with him. There are kindred spirits 
in the world now ; and said one of them, who was wearing 
out his life in the sacred cause, "How delightful to think 
there is a place of rest, a world from which all weariness 
and anxiety are excluded ! " 

To how many is it a cheering — a precious word ! " My 
chief conception of heaven is rest," said Robert Hall, who 
was borne down with the keenest suffering almost from the 
first to the last hour of his earthly pilgrimage. "O, this weari- 
ness, this restlessness ! " said another, whose pain-tortured body 
scarcely knew rest, but whose spirit was panting for holy action ; 
" yet I know that it is but temporary, for in heaven f the weary 
are at rest.'" Tired bodies will not be known there. Exertion 
will never produce languor, for rest, in its purest, best, and 
highest sense, is for the "people of God " when they enter the 
world that is eternal. The assurance is like balm to the suf- 
ferer. He may bear patiently and heroically the pains and ills 
25 



386 



WEARINESS AND BEST 



of mortality, if there be hope of relief. Vigorous exertion and 
protracted effort can be sustained for a time, if there be pros- 
pect of a season for the restoration of wasted energy. So the 
Christian may be faithful in his " arduous work " for " there re- 
maineth a rest." Oftentimes he is ready to exclaim, under the 
burden and heat of his mortal day, — 

" Gladly away from this toil would I hasten, 
Up to the crown that for me has been won," — 

but the long day of respite from weary toil will be sufficient. 
The rest will be sweeter, and the crown brighter, for a life of 
faithfulness and duty. It will not only be physical rest, — it will 
be rest for the soul, and that in its most engaging form. It is 
not only the body that fails to endure in its ministrations, but 
the spirit " tires and faints," on the thorny way over which it 
must go in its passage to the Celestial City. . The flesh is 
unequal to the desires and aims of a devoted spiritual being. 
Constant effort and longings for the attainment of Christian per- 
fection oftentimes increase the tenuity of the earthly, beside 
lessening the energy of the spiritual ; but as God will have from 
his saints a "spiritual worship, suited to his own spiritual 
being, he will provide them a spiritual rest, suited to their 
nature." It will be seasonable and suitable. How much is 
comprehended in it ! " Christian, this is a rest after thine own 
heart ; it contains all that thy heart can wish — that which 
thou longest, pray est, laborest for : there thou shalt find it all." 
The word will have a new significance, and the grateful soul 
will have a full appreciation of its meaning. An antepast of 
this produced the rapture in the soul which induced the 
lines, — 

"There shall I bathe my weary soul 
In seas of heavenly rest, 
And not a wave of trouble roll 
Across my peaceful breast." 

O, blessed "rest that remaineth " after the struggles and toils 



BEST IN HEAVEN. 



387 



incident to the pilgrimage of life ! It is a joy to the weary, a 
comfort and. solace to the fainting and oppressed. 

" They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more." 
Food and drink are necessary to the growth and development 
of the physical system. If they be withdrawn, the springs of 
life begin to fail at their source, and soon cease altogether ; and 
the process is one which involves not only unpleasant sensa- 
tions, but keen suffering. Few, perhaps, are wholly strangers 
to the debilitating influences which are consequent upon the 
suspension of food. If prolonged, sickness, depression, and 
utter inability, are the inevitable results. The healthy system 
craves its due, and unless it be obtained there is sad derange- 
ment. 

The body must be cared for, or it will die, and the spirit be 
powerless to fulfil its mission ; and much time is consumed in 
thought concerning it. Although it monopolizes more time 
than is really necessary, yet it is not to be denied that some, 
and even much, is indispensable for its pressing and actual need. 
Were it not for these constant and ever-recurring wants of the 
animal nature, how much more cultivation might be bestowed 
upon the higher faculties ! 

How many noble aspirations have been held in check, how 
many purposes kept within longing souls, and how many hearts 
have mourned because of the necessities that were upon them, 
which they were bound to regard, or lessen their days ! These 
things are among the trials of the world. Hungerings and 
thirstings, life and happiness, are inwoven, and they cannot be 
separated. As it is, we acknowledge it a wise relation — a 
merciful provision; but we turn with very pleasant emotions 
toward a land where the people shall never hunger nor thirst. 
This seems a most desirable experience. The idea, at once, 
elevates our conceptions, for we think no more of animal pro- 
pensities clamoring for indulgence. Every thing is merged into 
the spiritual, and is, consequently, higher and holier — ■ as much 
better as the one exceeds the other in real worth. 



388 



NO MORE HUNGER NOR THIRST. 



But these sensations are not confined simply to the body. 
The soul has yearnings and cravings. It hungers and thirsts 
and cannot be fully satisfied with what it finds below. It may 
find aliment appropriate in quality, but never obtains sufficient 
quantity to satisfy its demand. It may drink copious draughts 
from the infinite fountain, but still it thirsts ; nothing earthly 
can equal its wants. Its thirst will never be slaked until it 
drinks of the " water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out 
of the throne of God and the Lamb." Here, sin always adds 
its mixture, pouring its bitterness into the choicest cups ; and 
Christians' taste can never be satisfied with this. It is, indeed, 
a hallowed condition for the heavenly-minded soul if it thirst, 
and continue to thirst for holiness, for "blessed" is written of 
such ; yet the fulfilment of the blessing — its culmination — 
is to be found only in heaven. There "the sting of sin having 
been extracted, the thirst of the soul will be only a healthful 
and joyous appetite." 

There will be no more engrossing care for an exacting 
body, or an anxious soul, for at the table of royal bounty 
"they shall be filled." How welcome the assurance ! " To him 
who has sounded the depths of all terrestrial provisions for the 
craving of an immortal soul, and found that it is neither in 
things nor in persons to fill the void, it is an assurance full of 
hope " ! It tells of blessed opportunity — of steady and endless 
progression in a holy and happy life. This element, then, 
in the destiny of believers, is not small, for it will be no light 
advantage to "hunger no more, neither thirst any more." Well 
may it be said, Blessed are the saints. Prominent among the 
external advantages enumerated by the apostle, which conspire 
to enhance the pleasure of the heavenly inhabitants, is this, that 
" the throne of God and the Lamb shall be in it." It is counted 
a great honor to approach unto a throne upon which sits a king 
clothed in his regal majesty, surrounded by his officers and lords 
ready to do his bidding. It is only the few of unwonted dig- 
nity and position that are allowed the honor, and they are care- 



SAINTS NEAR TEE THRONE OF GOD. 389 

ful to clothe themselves in costly robes, and acquaint themselves 
with court rules, that they may deport themselves with due pro- 
priety before the august assembly. The pomp and pageantry of 
the court serve as a theme for eloquent discussion in all the 
circles to which they are admitted afterwards. The gems which 
compose the crown, and the adornments of the throne, have each 
their share of admiration and praise ; and prominent in all is the 
honor of having been permitted to look upon such splendor. It 
may indeed be fair to look upon — even brilliant ; but do we 
not know that it will fade away ? There is only one kingdom 
that is everlasting, and only one throne that endures. The sta- 
bility of any province is its glory, and the safety of a throne is 
the joy of the king. It is written of all the kingdoms of the 
world that they shall fall, and of sceptres that they shall vanish ; 
and why stand in such awe of the monarch of a day ? Why so 
much honor in looking at a mortal whose life-conditions are the 
same as those of others ? It is, indeed, something to be accounted 
honor, and that in wonderful degree, to be permitted to come in 
before Him who is " King of kings " and Monarch over all. It 
is truly nothing short of infinite condescension that permits any 
to approach his immaculate throne, and behold its glory, and 
yet the invitation is free. It does, indeed, require a court 
dress, and the observance of certain rules ; but the dress is pro- 
vided and the rules given, so that if one see Him not, there is no 
excuse. It is only a few of the wealthy and great that can have 
access to the place of kings upon the earth ; but " whosoever 
will " may stand before the " great white throne " with spotless 
robe and approved demeanor. The gates of heaven open 
soonest to the humble, and within is the "throne of God," sur- 
rounded by those who welcome the coming of each new guest. 
The proud attendants of earthly kings may look with scornful 
eye upon those who come with sounding title and pretended 
worth ; but not such the glances cast upon the newly-arrived by 
the pure and benevolent ones around the heavenly throne. 
But the throne itself ! . Who shall describe its glory ? John 



390 



THE GLORY OF GOD'S THRONE. 



thought it enough to say it was there. It was the attraction 
of the place, for the God he loved would surely inhabit the 
place. Mercy and righteousness were sparkling gems there, 
and so were justice and judgment ; but the combined glory 
was, and is, unutterable. Even angels veil their faces before 
the exceeding brightness: who, then, shall tell its splendor? 
who conceive what that throne is which is " from everlasting to 
everlasting," the abiding-place of the Most High? 

There was a vacancy in the throne once, for the King came 
down to fit men to behold it in his glory, and to serve him 
around it. He established a graicous plan of preparation, and 
went back, leaving to every one a cordial invitation to come 
unto his royal seat, and dwell permanently with him in the full 
enjoyment of the peculiar blessings such a position allows. 
There will be no disappointment, no failure, for "the throne 
of God is forever and ever, and a sceptre of righteousness is 
the sceptre of his kingdom." A glorious high place is the 
place of God's throne, and around it congregate his servants 
that serve him. They may have come from lowliest spheres, 
but it matters not, if there be only a loyal spirit. 

Dick, who wrote much of a future state, has what he calls 
" sublime and magnificent ideas " in connection with astronom- 
ical theories, which locate God's throne in the centre of the 
universe. He imagines a " grand central body," which may be 
considered the "capital of the universe." "From this glorious 
centre," he says, "embassies may be occasionally dispatched 
to all surrounding worlds, in every region of space. Here, 
too, deputations from all the different provinces of creation 
may occasionally assemble, and the inhabitants of different 
worlds mingle with each other, and learn the grand outlines of 
those physical operations and moral transactions which have 
taken place in their respective spheres. Here maybe exhibited 
to the view of unnumbered multitudes objects of sublimity and 
glory, which are nowhere else to be found within the wide 
extent of creation. Here intelligences of the highest Order, 



DICK'S IDEA OF HEAVEN. 



391 



who have attained the most sublime heights of knowledge and 
virtue, may form the principal part of the population of this 
magnificent region. Here the glorified body of the Redeemer 
may have taken its principal station, as ? the head of all prin- 
cipalities and powers ; ' and here, likewise, Enoch and Elijah 
may reside, in the mean time, in order to learn the history of 
the magnificent plans and operations of the Deity, that they may 
be enabled to communicate intelligence respecting them to their 
brethren of the race of Adam, when they shall again mingle 
with them in the world allotted for their abode, after the gen- 
eral resurrection. Here the grandeur of the Deity, the glory 
of his physical and moral perfections, and the immensity of his 
empire, may strike the mind with more bright effulgence, and 
excite more elevated emotions of admiration and rapture, than 
in any other province of universal nature. In fine, this vast 
and splendid central universe may constitute that august man- 
sion referred to in Scripture under the designation of the third 
heavens, the throne of the Eternal, the high and holy place, 
and the light that is inaccessible and full of glory." 

All this is pleasing to contemplate and delightful to antici- 
pate ; but it is the conjecture of fallible man. Possibly it may 
be characteristic of the throne of God, and it may be very 
remote from it. We know that every part of it will be glo- 
rious ; but there is nothing more satisfying than to fall back 
upon the sure word of inspiration, respecting the Holy City : 
" The throne of God and the Lamb shall be in it." Where- 
ever it be, it will exceed our highest thought, in itself and all 
its surroundings. Happy they who shall bow before it, to pay 
their homage unto Him who is upon it. 

Again, it is said of heaven, " The Lamb is the light thereof.' 
Did ever such light pervade any other place ? Jesus, the Lamb, 
is the blissful centre of all light, and the beams that radiate from 
him make every object glow with surpassing lustre. Every- 
thing shines in clear transparency continually, not with lights and 
shades, as here, but constant shining from the Sun of all suns. 



392 



THE LAMB THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 



diffuses transcendent brightness through the whole heavenly 
sphere. "The sun," as we are wont to speak, "does not light 
on them, nor any heat," and yet there can be no darkness, for 
"the Lamb is the light thereof ;" and there is no chill, for 
warmth is from the same source. The heavenly streets are 
alwavs lighted. There are no dark avenues to be avoided. 
All is clearer than the clearest noonday. And who are they 
that shall enjoy it ? 

" The nations of them that are saved shall walk in the light 
of it." Behold the white-robed company in the mansions of 
light, treading their familiar walks, or proceeding to those less 
so, under the guidance of the Great Leader. To the interro- 
gation, "Whence came ye?" they might say, — 

" 4 1 from Greenland's frozen land.' 

4 1 from India's sultry plain.' 
4 1 from Afric's barren sand.' 

4 1 from islands of the main.' 
All our earthly journey past, 

Every tear and pain gone by ; 
Here together met at last, 

At the portals of the sky." 

From opposite quarters of the globe, from every part of it, 
through much and varied tribulation, they go up to the realm 
of the blest, and walk in the light of it, with the grateful con- 
sciousness swelling their bosoms forevermore, that they are 
" saved," saved from sin, saved from a miserable doom, and 
from everything that in any way troubles or makes afraid. The 
nations of the earth have more or less that is revolting and dis- 
tasteful. We have prejudices that we can scarcely overcome, 
and in all our intercourse they influence us. We never receive 
or impart without being in a measure controlled by our likes 
and dislikes. We may be jealous for the honor of our own 
nation, and condemn unsparingly what we see in another, — 
and in all there is more or less cause for recrimination, — but 
among the " nations that are saved " there will never be even 
ground for suspicion. They dwell in light, the children of 



THE FAR-OFF ISLAND. 



393 



light, and all their actions are based upon holy and perfect 
principle, upon pure and all-embracing love. 

They form the only perfect community we know. They 
have been chosen from the nations of the earth, and trans- 
planted to a clime every way fitted for their truest and highest 
development, in all things that constitute virtue and goodness. 
They more than realize our loftiest ideals of nobility of char- 
acter, for everything that mars in the slightest degree was 
removed before they entered the holy land. Imperfection has 
no place there. Whoever goes to join the nations that are 
redeemed in the upper world, goes to a pure, happy, and 
perfect community, each one of which is moved with such 
benevolence as to prompt a cordial reception, and a full share 
in all the privileges and enjoyments which they know. Every 
addition to their number even begets a new song, and sends 
a thrill of joy through every soul, for thereby their Lord and 
King obtains new glory and honor ; and to Him who prepared 
the place, and brought them thither with such joys and pros- 
pects, they ever take delight in ascribing praise. 

Should tidings come to us of some far-off island of the sea, 
wondrously fair and beautiful, with climate exceedingly fine, 
that is rich and fragrant with fruit and flowers, and besides 
all this is inhabited by a peaceable and loving people, who 
delight in entertaining new guests, — in showing them the 
beauties and giving them of the treasures of their land, — 
with what interest should we look upon it ! How thought 
and desire would wing their way to such a favored spot ! How 
many would turn their faces and their steps thitherward ! The 
invalid would go in anticipation of new life for his decaying 
energies, the pleasure-loving to gratify his thrist for novelty, 
and the artist and man of taste to realize their idea of the 
beautiful. Fascination would surround the spot, and it would 
be celebrated in story and song. There are stories of such 
places, but they are fabulous, having their existence only in im- 
agination. We know there is really nothing like this on our sin- 



394 



GOD'S GLORY SHOWN IN HEAVEN. 



stained earth ; but we also know that there is a place in another 
world that exceeds this ideal one in every respect. It is 
where " the nations of them that are saved " walk ; and there 
is a way to reach it — "a highway ; " and those who pass over 
it "come with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads," 
to a land of perpetual joy, where " sorrow and sighing flee 
away." 

Also, "the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honor 
into it." The monarchs of this world are proud to embellish 
their royal seats ; are ambitious to gather memorials of gran- 
deur, and perform great and heroic deeds, that they may get 
glory to their name and kingdom. Monuments, statues, libra- 
ries, everything that can contribute to renown and prosperity 
are secured, and a king is regarded in character and capacity 
according to the extent to which he hath cared for these 
things. A wise king will regard the interest and welfare of 
his subjects, and plan for their advantage; so He who pre- 
sides over the heavenly kingdom has the best and highest 
welfare of his subjects at heart continually, and has not neg- 
lected the gathering of things from all his universe that would 
in the least contribute to the happiness of his loyal and faithful 
ones. The preparations and improvements which he has made 
are indeed magnificent and royal, and all the splendor of the 
richest and proudest cities of time is not at all comparable 
with the City of God. He avails himself of every source to 
add unto its glory, and for this "the kings of the earth do 
bring their glory and honor into it." Proud empires of the 
past, with all their grandeur and glory, have fallen, and those 
who founded and beautified them have also passed away ; but 
whoso is engaged in bringing "glory and honor" into the 
celestial empire will have a name written upon a more endur- 
ing monument than earth ever produced, and a memory per- 
petuated in the annals of heaven forever. 

" The gates shall not be shut at all by day." This implies a 
feeling of most perfect security ; but the significance of the 



GATES OF TEE CITY NOT SHUT. 395 



idea is not to us what it was to John, or what it is to people of 
the East now, whose cities are encircled by walls, the gates of 
which are closed the greater part of the time, to the no small 
inconvenience of those that are within. At certain hours of 
the day they are closed upon the moving mass within ; and be 
their desire ever so strong, their wants ever so pressing, they 
must remain in the enclosure. The restrictions of a massive 
wall are ever around them, but in the heavenly city "the gates 
shall not be shut at all by day." There is freedom there with- 
out restraint, though at the same time the holy soul will wish 
for no indulgence that is not perfectly reasonable and right. 
Curiosity will never look through the open gates with unhal- 
lowed purpose. Desire will never be roaming abroad with 
doubtful intent, for the inhabitants of that city are satisfied 
with their portion. The heavenly home is indeed " bright and 
fair." It is a glorious place that the Saviour has prepared for 
them that love Him. Precious is that which is spoken con- 
cerning it. Why are not souls more enraptured with it? 

A dying girl awoke from a transient dream. " I was paint- 
ing a beautiful picture of heaven," said she ; and her counte- 
nance glowed with intense delight at the vision she had caught. 
If the vision be fair, what will the reality be ? If the antici- 
pation yield so much pleasure, what will actual possession be? 
Nothing but unbounded love and goodness are manifest in the 
provisions which God has made for his followers. If it had 
been the province of man, after the fall, to have framed a plan 
for the future home of his soul, would it have been anything 
like this that we have now to hope for ? The highest concep- 
tion of the imperfect man could never have reached it. There- 
fore, let the world rejoice that God took it upon himself to 
plan and build the New Jerusalem, the foundation and super- 
structure of which is surpassingly strong and beautiful. Let 
gratitude swell the hearts of the children of men that one so 
infinitely good and able has undertaken to furnish and people 
it ; that he has sent forth his invitation, saying, Come, dwell 



396 HEAVEN SURPASSES HUMAN THOUGHTS. 



in my city, and be at rest ; come, share in the blessings I am 
prepared to bestow. 

" Loud let his praises ring ; 
Praise, praise for aye," 

because of the glory revealed — the heaven offered. 

Tantalus saw a good that he thirsted for continually, but 
could never reach it ; so heaven might be very fair and beauti- 
ful in our eyes, while our spirits were pining in the vain effort 
to attain it. We might be justly tantalized in this way ; but 
God, who is " rich in mercy," has been pleased to make the 
priceless good attainable, and open a way by which all that 
will may have part in the purchased possession — the rich in- 
heritance. 

Heaven is open to receive all that come in this appointed 
way, and their names will be registered in the "book of life," 
to remain forever. Saint and angel bands stand waiting to 
receive the newly-arrived, and conduct them to places where 
are " fulness of joy " and " pleasures forevermore ; " where 

" The river of life, in many a winding maze, 
Descending from the lofty throne of God," 

with " excessive glory " crowns the scene. 



ETERNAL LIFE A CONTINUATION OF THIS. 397 



CHAPTER. XXIY, 

OCCUPATIONS OF THE BLEST. 

Eternal Life a Continuation of this. — Future physical Economy unknown, 

— Activity a Law of all Being. -—Memory survives. ~— Study of Science. 

— Redeeming Love the grand Theme. — Praise. — Cultivation of Vir- 
tue. — Heaven a glad Surprise. 

" Whate'er the spirits blest pursue, 
Where'er they go, whatever sights they see 
Of glory and bliss through all the tracts of heaven, 
The centre still, the figure eminent, 
"Whither they ever turn, on whom all eyes 
Repose with infinite delight, is God, 
And his incarnate Son, the Lamb once slain 
On Calvary, to ransom ruined men." — PolloJc. 

The germ of the future life is hidden in that of the present, 
and all unfoldings of it here will be the enhancement of its 
strength, beauty, and sweetness in the day of final perfection 
hereafter. All that we can attain unto here, notwithstanding 
all our artificial forces, is, as it were, a feeble bud, that 
refuses to open and display its inner character. Life blos- 
soms only under the genial influences of heaven. Its petals 
fully expand only in the favoring air of the upper sphere, 
and the richness of the tinting they receive there surpasses 
the power of the imagination to conceive. 

The full and perfect rose of to-day was but a tiny bud a 
short time since, apparently of no such capacity as is now 
evident. The unfolding has revealed its interior life, and pre- 
sented an aspect of which we might never have dreamed, had 
we not seen it; but we fail not to recognize the relation 



398 



THIS LIFE A GERM. 



between the bud and the flower. The same principle is mani- 
fest through formation and development ; and somewhat like 
unto this is the life of man. Kedeemed saints, who now 0 
walk the heavenly vales, were a short time since encircled by 
bands they could not break. On either side was a covering 
they could not burst, and it concealed beauty and power that 
they themselves did not know they possessed. The parted 
folds may, indeed, have disclosed richness of coloring, or that 
which betokened it ; but the breadth of expansion of which 
they were capable was all unknown. 

The life they now live is only the continuation, the devel- 
opment of that life which was begun on earth. The successive 
stages of the embryotic state were all necessary, and had each 
their interesting phases ; but in none was it imagined what the 
perfected glory would be. They see the once feeble germ 
spreading itself, and becoming constantly more perfect. Life 
is on a higher plane. The position is elevated, and the soul 
looks out from a different stand-poiDt. They could never 
before understand the interior life of the saints. Conception 
and perception are now faculties vastly unlike those they knew 
below, and their purity, quickness, and intensity have been 
given for the appreciation and enjoyment of everything in 
their new life. Bands and coverings are broken and burst, 
and they have emerged exult jngly into a free and joyous ex- 
istence, too broad and high to be comprehended, except with 
new vision and divinely imparted power for this very purpose. 
They have all that is necessary to secure adaptation to the 
world into which they have been ushered, to the things by 
which they are surrounded, and the society of which they form 
a part. When they chose Christ for their portion upon earth, 
then were incorporated into their souls these elements of a 
heavenly life ; and through reliance upon unfailing promises, 
they were permitted earnests and foretastes of rich joy that God 
would reveal in his good time ; but there was something in 
that joy they could not know while encompassed by mortality. 



FUTURE LIFE A RAPID DEVELOPMENT. 399 



They did not understand it, until, clothed with the righteous- 
ness of their Lord, they entered in through the gates of the 
, Celestial City, and heard the pledge, From this sinless place 
ye shall go no more out forever. "We may hear much of a 
certain place — of its loveliness, the beauty of its natural scenery ; 
but not until we have seen it have we true and definite ideas 
of it. To fully appreciate anything, we must see it. To sym- 
pathize with one in any given direction, we must have experi- 
mental knowledge in that particular, or we sensibly fail in 
reaching his case : hence the expressions, To be realized, it 
must be seen ; To be known fully, it must be felt. So heaven 
cannot be fully understood by mortals. They have yet to 
burst the chrysalis of being, and rise, before they can know 
what is above. They are in their earthly prison-house, and 
cannot know fully the freedom of that life which is beyond. 
God never intended his children should understand heaven in 
all its aspects until they should be called to a permanent resi- 
dence there : and even then, such are its exhaustless wonders, 
there will be no time in the history of their limitless being 
when they will have seen all there is to be seen, or know all 
there is to be known. The divine Saviour has " secret coun- 
sels " in these things ; and who does not rejoice in this ? for who 
would know the whole on earth? How it would detract from 
heaven if we could comprehend it now ! It would, as it were, 
destroy it, for it would be a creation of our own, instead of 
a glorious idea of the Good and the Great, taking upon itself 
a form of inconceivable beauty, that we are conscious, in the 
depth of our souls, requires a new phase of being altogether, 
before it can be seen and known. This invests it with a glory 
and grandeur that we feel appropriately belongs to it ; and we 
are constrained to say, Better is the Heaven of our God than 
the loftiest Paradise of our thoughts. "We are told that it is 
beautiful and glorious ; that it has in reserve rich rewards ; that 
it offers every possible inducement for the way-worn pilgrims 
of earth to seek it ; but we can never know what these things 



400 FUTURE PHYSICAL ECONOMY UNKNOWN. 



are, perfectly, until we get there. A wealthy individual might 
give us a cordial invitation to his house, and bid us reap all 
its pleasures and advantages ; and though a single character- 
istic of these were never mentioned, should we not regard our- 
selves as honored, and particularly fortunate ? Jesus invites 
us to his Father's house, bids us roam at will among its untold 
pleasures, and avail ourselves of its numberless advantages ; 
but could we expect him to reveal the occupations of eternity in 
any considerable degree ? Some features of heavenly employ- 
ments are revealed, but they are only indications, yet blessed 
ones. Mortals, however, are not satisfied with these ; they 
would assure themselves of the secret mysteries of another 
life, and know, before they are "clothed upon," what God 
would not have them know until death lifts the veil. " We 
cannot be surprised," says a modern writer, "that all men are 
moved, at times, with an intense desire to penetrate the secret 
of the future life. It is a most natural, and, if restrained 
within reverential limits, a most pardonable curiosity. It is 
more than curiosity ; it is a rational interest. At times we 
cannot repress the exclamation, How wonderful, that God 
should have persisted so calmly, so silently, so completely, to 
preserve his secret for these six thousand years ! 

" Of many things which respect the conditions and occupa- 
tions of the heavenly world, God has made revelation to us ; 
our future physical economy is his secret. The things revealed 
are at once perceived to have a close and most practical relation 
to our improvement and to our happiness, both for the present 
and for the future. The things concealed are as obviously not 
indispensable either to improvement or happiness . My own per- 
suasion is, in the first place, that, as we are now organized, 
we are not receptive of ideas of our future physical economy ; 
and in the second place, that, were we so receptive, the felicity 
of that economy is so great, that a revelation of its character- 
istics would make us utterly impatient of the inaccuracy, 



ACTIVITY A LAW OF LIFE. 



401 



feebleness, and uncertainty of the economy we are for the pres- 
ent required to endure and complete." 

The material and the spiritual are to be glorified, and the 
occupations we shall know in such a state cannot be made 
intelligible to such creatures as we really are now. Doubtless 
we shall be employed, in countless ways, upon objects that as 
yet we have not the slightest knowledge of ; but they will all 
derive their interest as related to one end, and that end the 
glory of Him who redeemed us, and washed us in his own blood, 
thereby fitting us for the holy work. 

One thing we are warranted in believing — that the future will 
involve the highest activity of all our powers. Activity is a 
law of spiritual not less than of natural life. God is unceas- 
ingly active, and he subjects his followers to the same condition. 
It was appointed to the first pair in sinless Eden, for their happi- 
ness could not be complete without it. The soul was made for 
action, and demands it. Without it, it contracts, languishes, 
and falls low in the scale, whereas it should, by the due obser- 
vance of the laws of its being, be constantly in the ascending 
direction. All noble and aspiring minds are distinguished by 
their measure of action , and all worthy achievement in the world 
is based upon it. The forces of nature must be active, or seri- 
ous disturbance, if not death, is the consequence. To be an 
idler is to take an unworthy place in this busy economy which 
God has instituted. "It is repugnant to all the laws of the 
hidden life. Goodness finds its emblem, not in the pool, but in 
the stream. Run it must, or it cannot live." 

Action is God-like. It created the world ; it benefits and 
saves it ; and a place without it, where there is no necessity 
for it, is not after the model we would suppose or wish. The 
Roman nation would not permit the Goddess of Rest a place 
within the gates of their city, and the temple of Quies arose 
without the enclosure, while Stimula and Strenua, patrons of 
constancy and diligence, found their royal seats in more favored 
places. The acknowledged life of the nation was activity, 
26 



402 ACTIVITY SANCTIFIED BUT NATURAL. 



among a heathen people, and not less is it the motive power of 
Christianity. Everywhere it is life, and its absence death. It 
is made essential in all God's universe, and holy effort we con- 
clude to be indispensable to the bliss of heaven. A world 
where there is nothing to do would not be heaven, and there 
are few who do not feel that there is real bliss in action. Let 
an ambitious spirit, that is bounded by the narrow capacity of 
an enfeebled system, have restored to it the power to will and do, 
and it is happy. It is in its element. There is no charm, but 
rather the wretched reverse, in being compelled to inaction. So 
the saint is not happy without being employed. Employment 
is essential to vigorous life in the sphere where he is, and he 
would not be deprived of it. It is joy to go on errands of love, 
at the call of his beloved Lord, though it be to remotest points, 
if so be that good may be accomplished. Holiest plans will be 
wrought out through eternity by the redeemed, and variety of 
pursuit will afford satisfaction to those of every taste. To 
please God will be the aim of all ; but it is not to be denied that 
there will be different tastes there, and different degrees of 
fitness for special objects, so that while one is commissioned to 
the performance of one thing, another may go on a higher em- 
bassy, and so on in endless gradation, and yet the existing order 
and harmony be such, that not so much as a single spark of envy 
will be excited. Love is inwrought into the constitution of the 
soul, and, therefore, will survive all the changes which death will 
brin^. If one has been devoted to an innocent and laudable 
object of pursuit in this life, if for a long series of years his heart 
has been enlisted, his affections bestowed upon this chosen thing, 
and even up to the last moment of existence upon earth, will 
there be no trace of that love in heaven ? To deny it would be 
to say that an inherent quality of the soul will be destroyed ; 
and if one, why not the others? and how, then, is the soul im- 
mortal? The faculties of the soul, we must believe, will go 
through the process of dissolving nature unimpaired. Memory 
will live, and the redeemed saints cannot but look back over all 



ME MOBY SURVIVES IN HEAVEN. 



403 



the way the Lord has led them since he gave them being, and 
wonder at the signal displays of mercy which they never saw so 
clearly before. This will constitute an element in heavenly 
bliss. Memory will open the book of the past, and upon every 
page will read of providence and grace with new and ever- 
increasing interest, for gratitude will be constantly heightened 
by the ever-recurring consciousness in the soul that it has been 
brought safely, through all, into the blessed land. Those 
familiar with the dream of Dr. Doddridge will remember this 
to have been a pleasing feature in the happiness which he 
imagined had come to his soul. The walls of his mansion 
held the pictures of his life, and there before him he beheld, in 
rich display, the divine goodness hovering over him, crowning 
his days with mercy, and shielding him in times of danger and 
temptation. Their study produced a thrill of ineffable joy, and 
he fell in grateful admiration at the feet of his Lord. This is an 
experience of dream-land ; but may it not be considered an 
adumbration of the real land, that is to open upon all believers? 
Watts recognized the truth when his fervid spirit dwelt upon 
the time when he should sit upon the flowery slopes of heaven, 
and " recount the labor " of his feet with " transporting joy." 
Remembrance of this sinful and imperfect life, it may be said, is 
calculated to excite unpleasant emotion, since the record is 
stained with numerous paragraphs that we love not to look upon ; 
but all sin is forgiven and removed, and it surely cannot but 
swell adoration because of the matchless love which gave the 
final victory. The sinless condition of the blessed may be ap- 
preciated all the better by their recollection of the past, when 
they groaned under the dominion of sin. Christ taught that the 
memory of the lost is not destroyed. It formed a bitter in- 
gredient in the cup of the " rich man ; " it greatly aggravated his 
misery to think of what he had slighted and lost forever. 

The same is equally true of the saved. Doubtless they will 
retain a distinct recollection of their earthly career through all the 
cycles of the endless state. As they look back to the time when 



404 



POETRY AND SONG IN HEAVEN. 



they were led by the Divine Spirit to choose whom they would 
serve, and to the period when upon God's altar the sacrifice was 
laid, will not their song be sweeter and more loud because of 
the grace which thus distinguished and inclined them ? When 
they review the glad day in which they stood up for Jesus in 
the great congregation, confessing to the world a willingness 
" to suffer reproach with the people of God, rather than to enjoy 
the pleasures of sin for a season," — when they think of the 
delight they have known in the communion of saints around the 
sacramental board, and of sacred moments when the love of 
Jesus joyfully constrained them, — they can but be stirred to 
fresh anthems of praise. 

The same will be likewise true as they look back and discover 
the gentle promptings which inclined them to deeds of benev- 
olence, to self-denial for the good of others. These things 
are rewarded in heaven, yea, even the presenting of a "cup of 
cold water ; " and, in receiving the recompense, it were strange 
if memory should be faithless to her trust, and have no knowl- 
edge of the kindly acts. The significance of reward w T oukl 
thus be in a great measure lost. 

We know the remembrance of a danger past is attended 
with peculiarly grateful feelings, and that returning vigor and 
elasticity of health, after painful and protracted sickness, are 
prized chiefly by contrast ; and so will the memory of the past, 
the dangers, sorrows, and temptations of time, enhance the joy 
of the securely blest in the world above. 

If memory and love thus survive the tomb, it follows, then, 
that, to some extent, they will have a determining influence 
upon pursuits of the redeemed. 

The imagination of a poet, w T hile musing upon the heavenly 
world, has there beheld bands of kindred spirits united in the 
pursuit of those things they loved and sought while they walked 
on earth ; groups of artists, who " hold the pencil," realizing the 
ideal which their minds so long sought below, but could not 
find, perchance revealing to each other some loved scene with 



SCOPE FOR THE IMAGINATION. 



405 



dearest imagery, that had some influence in subduing and chas- 
tening the naturally proud spirit, fitting it for the home and the 
scenes to which they had been brought ; or, 

" gazing on the scenery of heaven, 
They dip their hand in color's native well, 
And on the everlasting canvas dash 
Figures of glory, imagery divine, 
"With grace and grandeur in perfection knit." 

God has manifested a high regard for the beautiful in the 
creation of this world, and he did not take it away when those 
to whom he gave it proved false ; and we may well conclude 
that if he does so much for the imperfect, he will do infinitely 
more for those whom he has made perfect. In the place which 
he has prepared for them, there will doubtless be ample scope 
for the lovers of art. They will feast their eyes upon the 
loveliest and most perfect models, new beauties displaying 
themselves the longer they gaze, filling their hearts with deep- 
est appreciation, and lighting their countenances with holy 
radiance, all indicative of divinest joy. 

Those, too, whose chief delight has been in poesy and song 
will find abundant and diversified material for loftiest poems ; 
and all thought will be in harmonious measure, evolving only 
the most melodious sounds. The eye and the ear will be so 
sweetly regaled with all that is beautiful and musical, that 
the soul will breathe itself out in most delightful song. The 
anthems which, they hear chanted by saints and angels about 
them will fill them with holy ecstasy, and inspire them to 
new productions breathing the same spirit. Milton, Cowper, 
with their companions who spoke in sacred verse, have long- 
since found themselves at a more grateful fountain than that 
of Castalian inspiration. In the Paradise gained, the glori- 
ous strains of the "new song" are forever filling their souk 
with gladness. Their hearts were full of melody and rhythm 
in their earthly existence, but they now participate in the 



406 REASON SURVIVES IN HEAVEN. 

symphonies of heaven through an endless life. In the songs 
of the grand and universal celebration they have part, the 
while touching with skilful hand the ever-tuneful harp, that 
produces richer music than all the combined instruments of 
earth. Never were such rich strains as those in the verse 
of heaven, for they were dictated by Jesus himself for his own 
choir, and they are surpassingly sweet. 

Thus we imagine full satisfaction for the varied tastes of all 
those who pass into the New Jerusalem. What they have loved 
wisely here, they will love better there, and what they have 
sought here, agreeably to the divine will, they will enjoy there 
with keener relish. They shall be fully satisfied, is the assur- 
ance that God always bade his messengers give his people ; 
and if they enter heaven with one bias of soul stronger than 
another, it shall be allowed its gratification, They will indeed 
love that which is assigned them ; but He who portions their 
lot will have respect unto their preference and capacity. The 
poet continues, — 

"Behold another band . . . 
Of piercing, steady, intellectual eye, 
And spacious forehead of sublimest thought. 
They reason deep of present, future, past, 
And trace effect to cause, and meditate 
On the eternal laws of God." 

Eeason is God-like. It allies man to the Infinite as nothing 
else does. It is that which distinguishes man from the lower 
orders of creation, and continually elevates him in the scale of 
being. It is the prime ornament and regulator of mind, mak- 
ing it like unto a mint, from which the most valuable coin is 
issued, which circulates through and blesses the world. This, 
too, shall survive the tomb. It is never so clear and bright 
as oftentimes in the last moment of expiring nature ; there- 
fore we conclude the mind retains this attribute, and goes with 
it into the other world, where it will do its work more fitly 
than here. There will be reasoning in heaven ; and what 



THE MIND NEVER FALTERS IN HEAVEN. 407 



glorious subjects for the exercise of this faculty will be spread 
out there ! They who dwell there will 

" dip into the deep, original, 
Unknown, mysterious elements of things," 

with wonderful interest, while every step in the process will 
reveal new traces of the beauty, power, and skill of the great 
Author of all. 

They will revolve "cause and effect" in connection with 
redeeming love ; and, though they continually turn over the 
" secret leaves of man's redemption," the problem is so mighty 
it will occupy their minds through endless ages. 

They may ponder, work, and measure still, and yet never 
know fully the height and depth of its marvellous grace. There 
will always be new mysteries for the most sagacious reasoner, 
limitless scope for study for the pupils in the heavenly school, 
and they will never learn all, neither weary of poring over 
the divine revelations. They will delight in the acquisition 
of all knowledge, at least of all such as their Divine Teacher 
permits ; and this, doubtless, will form a part of the employ- 
ment of the heavenly world. Then those who have loved to 
gather in the temples of learning, those whose favorite haunts 
have been the halls of science, will find themselves in full 
possession of more than coveted advantages for the prosecu- 
tion of that which they have so ardently desired, and which 
they can vastly better comprehend. There are no friction, 
no disturbing forces there, and no painful sense of failure in 
the attempt to grasp subjects deep and high. There have 
been men on earth with a marvellous power of concentrated 
thought, who have wrought out principles from solid material, 
as the sculptor has carved a finished statue from a block of 
marble ; but they have done it at such a vast expense of their 
physical strength that they have become unfit for further 
achievement. In some instances mind has, in consequence of 
such application, lost its power to perceive and retain, and 
the world has wept over a sad though splendid ruin. 



408 



MARVELLOUS EXPANSION OF MIND. 



There will be nothing of this among those who study in 
heaven. The enlarged mental powers will be able to bring 
into desirable proximity all ideas related to the subjects of 
meditation, thus giving ready comprehension of truth, and its 
associate result. As by intuition, things will be understood that 
life-long effort has failed to reach. O, what a mind the saint 
of a thousand }^ears must possess ! t But there are no years in 
the calendar of the saints ; countless periods witness the growth 
and perfection of the mental nature, until it shall stand in 
glorious and lordly stature like the tall archangel, to the praise 
of the Infinite, to whom all tends, and in whom all is lost. 

What mighty intellects will appear in the lapse of ages ! 
There will be perception of new truths continually ; for truth 
lives and thrives in the heavenly sphere. It is its congenial 
clime, and reaches perfection there. From its nature, it is eter- 
nal and unchangeable ; and, consequently, we suppose its study 
to be the basis of reasoning and of action in the future state of 
the blest. It is called the only " lasting treasure ; " and surely 
it must sparkle and shine as crystal drops from the " water of 
life " trickle over it, preserving it from all impurity, and pre- 
venting the accretion of all foreign and adventitious matter. 
It will not be the laborious task of searching for diamond truths 
among a mass of useless rubbish, but they will at once appear, 
pure and unalloyed, in setting of exquisite and glorious de- 
sign. The crust of error is left outside the walls of heaven, 
and within every thing is polished and clear, especially the 
gem of truth that adorns the bosom of the saints. This will 
engage attention and enlist admiration forever. 

From these considerations an argument is adduced in favor 
of scientific investigation in the future — that science, which 
embodies truth, will be pursued when we have left the earth, 
and entered upon our eternal condition and employments. 

The faculties which aid man in knowledge and discovery 
were implanted in his constitution by God himself, " and the 
objects on which these faculties are exercised, are the works of 



TEE STUDIES OF TEE SAINTS. 



409 



the Creator, which, the more minutely they are investigated, 
the more strikingly do they display the glory of his character 
and perfections. Consequently, it must have been the inten- 
tion of the Creator that man should employ the powers he has 
given him in scientific researches, otherwise he would never 
have endowed him with such noble faculties, nor have opened 
to his view so large a portion of his empire. Scientific inves- 
tigations, therefore, are to be considered as nothing less than 
inquiries into the plans and operations of the Eternal, in order 
to unfold the attributes of his nature, his providential procedure 
in the government of his creatures, and the laws by which he 
directs the movements of universal nature." 

These things will elicit the warmest interest of God's peo- 
ple when he takes them to himself, and gives them a power 
increasingly perceptive and receptive. Whatever concerns the 
glory of God in any way, will be a matter of profoundest 
import ; for the grand motive power will be love, and the high- 
est bliss will be to discover new methods of its enhancement. 

In men of this world, devotion to science oftentimes strangely 
blinds the mind, so that the true aim is lost ; but those who 
pursue it in the upper world will lose nothing of the highest 
wisdom that can be gained from it. And why? Because the 
purified vision of the saints will distinguish more clearly, and 
their purified powers will comprehend more quickly and 
entirely. 

There will be no selfish end to be accomplished, no nar- 
row-minded policy for the attainment of honorable position, 
nor anything of the kind ; but only the acquisition of good for 
its own sake, and the sake of Him whose bright creation it is. 

The well-known ff Christian philosopher " has gone so far as 
to enumerate studies which he thinks will find a place in God's 
school hereafter. We briefly notice these, with some of the 
reasons, which, in his estimation, warrant such a belief. 

Without the science of numbers, in their various powers 
and combinations, no extensive progress could be made among 



410 



TEE SCIENCE OF NUMBERS. 



intelligent beings anywhere. Its fixed and unalterable prin- 
ciples are absolutely indispensable to all worthy and rational 
calculation, and to the arrival of just conceptions with regard 
to the commonest things of life, as well as the ways and works 
of God in his universe. 

The stupendous magnitudes of the heavenly bodies which 
fill the ethereous realm, would be all unknown to us without 
this science. They might stud the mighty concave as now ; 
but instead of the magnificent ideas which now fill our minds, 
and enlarge the boundary of elevated thought, there would be 
the simple and meagre knowledge that they exist. Their size, 
distance, and relation to each other could not be ascertained. 
What should we know of the immense radiations of light that 
are emitted from the sun, and travel with inconceivable rapid- 
ity in their journey to our globe, and of countless other and 
most interesting things ? 

The present perfection of the science has revealed wonderful 
facts, and led man to exclaim, in the conscious littleness of his 
soul, "How great a God is our God ! " "His ways are past 
finding out." It might be reasonably concluded, that if it be 
the pleasure of the Almighty to show so much here, he 
will show much more in the good time that is to come ; that 
if he permits such revelations of his power now, he will mul- 
tiply them hereafter. 

The process of study will indeed involve nothing of present 
tediousness and labor. It will not be the sitting down to a 
difficult problem, that must be wrought out by slow and uncer- 
tain steps ; but, in all probability, mind will act with such 
quickness and rapidity, and, withal, so surely, that, in itself, 
it would arrive at results with speedy and unerring certainty. 
Bible allusions to numbers are also taken as indications that 
beings of superior intelligence are not unmindful of the science, 
and not uninterested in it, as signified by the " thousand thou- 
sands," and " ten thousand times ten thousand," that take their 
part in God's service before his throne. "These expressions 



STUDY OF ASTRONOMY. 



411 



arc the strongest which the inspired writers make use of, in 
order to express a countless multitude of objects ; and they 
lead us to conclude that, in the heavenly world, vast assem- 
blages of intelligent beings will be occasionally presented to 
the view; and, consequently, a countless variety of scenes, 
objects, and circumstances connected with their persons, 
stations, and employments. And, therefore, if celestial beings 
were not familiarized with numerical calculations and propor- 
tions, such scenes, instead of being contemplated with intelli- 
gence and rational admiration, would confound the intellect, 
and produce an effect similar to that which is felt by a savage 
when he beholds, for the first time, some of the splendid 
scenes of civilized life." 

Astronomy, too, with its wonderful and sublime revelations, 
will continue to enlarge the conceptions and expand the intel- 
lect in the other world. The heavens are supposed to con- 
stitute the principal part of God's universal empire, and it is 
an exceedingly small part of it that we can comprehend with 
our finite knowledge, even with all the aid man can summon. 
Our views are limited and circumscribed, and the subject is 
grand and inexhaustible, affording peculiar and rich displays 
of divine power and skill ; and if mankind, when placed in a 
higher sphere of existence, have not the means of prosecuting 
this study, then, so far, will they be less favored than they 
were upon earth. The grand aim of all in the celestial state 
will be to increase in the love and knowledge of the infinite 
God ; and in proportion as the boundary of his empire is 
known and appreciated, will praise and adoration abound. 

The extent, order, and harmony of systems, suns, and 
planets, as they are contemplated, must excite devout recog- 
nition of the power of a guiding hand, that is matchless in 
ability, and awake corresponding strains of sublime song. 

The science which has for its object the promotion of ac- 
quaintance with the phenomena of the material world, the 
explanation of their causes, and the investigation of the laws 



412 



STUDY OF NATURAL PEILO SOPHY. 



by which the Almighty works in the operations of nature, 
is also a matter which shall claim the attention of the reno- 
vated inhabitants of the upper spheres. 

Natural philosophy may be considered a branch of the 
religion of nature, and of the religion of revelation. It re- 
moves, in part, the veil which is spread over the mysterious 
processes of nature, and discloses to our view the wonders 
which lie concealed from the thoughtless multitude, "who re- 
gard not the works of the Lord, nor consider the operations of 
his hands." It enables us to perceive the footsteps of the 
Almighty, both in his majestic movements, and in his most 
minute designs ; for there is not a step we can take in the 
temple of nature, under the guidance of an enlightened phi- 
losophy, in which we do not behold traces of inscrutable wis- 
dom, and of a benevolence which extends its kind regards to 
every rank of sensitive and intelligent existence. It shows us 
the beauty and goodness of the divine administration, and 
demonstrates that the communication of happiness is the final 
cause of all the admirable arrangements in the material sys- 
tem. It teaches us that all the movements of nature are 
effected by means uncontrollable by human power, and far 
transcending finite skill to plan or execute. It discovers 
those laws by which the Sovereign of the universe governs 
his vast dominions, and maintains them in undecaying beauty 
and splendor throughout all ages. It thus enables us to regard 
the universe as one grand temple ; and, by the contemplation 
of every object it presents, to elevate our minds, and to raise 
our voices in grateful praises to Him "who created all things, 
and for whose pleasure they are and were created." 

Such an end harmonizes with the will of saints, who delight 
in nothing so much as in learning of God ; and the supposi- 
tion is warrantable that they will not only retain their interest , 
but find it vastly increased as to the application of philosophi- 
cal principles to the wants and happiness of mankind. True, 
what connection saints will have with the material world, — if 



STUDY OF BIS TORY. 



413 



any, of what nature, we cannot tell. All is shrouded in mys- 
tery with reference to the scene into which they have been 
ushered. We cannot know all their manner of life, nor is 
it necessary that we should ; but the works and ways of God 
will doubtless challenge thought and admiration among them, 
and to further this end, History may add her quota of interest 
and advantage. The eye of the Omniscient looks down with 
deepest solicitude upon the moral history of the world. It is 
a record of human character and passion ; of human will and 
depravity, or of rightful conflicts and triumphs of good ; and 
in proportion to the extent of the latter will be the satisfaction 
of the redeemed. Upon its pages are spread, in detail, God's 
providential dealings with those he has placed upon earth, 
and a witness to the rectitude of his character and the equity 
of his administration. 

The unfolding of the scroll of history will display great 
events and great victories, that have told powerfully upon the 
human race ; and as it is presented to the consideration of 
the redeemed, it must surely magnify the mercy and forbear- 
ance of the Lord, which he has exercised toward a wayward 
and sinning people. "But the history of man," it is said, "is 
not the only topic in this department of knowledge that will 
occupy the attention of the inhabitants of heaven. The his- 
tory of angels — of their faculties, intercourses, and employ- 
ments ; of their modes of communication with each other, of 
their different embassies to distant worlds, of the transactions 
which have taken place in their society, and of the revolutions 
through which they may have passed ; the history of apostate 
angels — the cause of their fall, and the circumstances with 
which it was attended, the plans they have been pursuing since 
that period, and the means by which they have endeavored to 
accomplish their infernal devices, — will doubtless form a por- 
tion of the history of Divine dispensations, which the "saints 
in light " will be permitted to contemplate. 

Over this part of the divine economy a veil of darkness is 



414 



STUDY OF GOD'S WORKS AND WILL. 



spread, which, we have reason to believe, will be withdrawn 
when that which is perfect is come, and when " we shall know, 
even as also we are known." It is also probable that the lead- 
ing facts in relation to the history of other worlds will be dis- 
closed to their view. The history of the different planets in 
the solar system, and of those which are connected with other 
systems in the universe, — the periods of their creation, the 
character of their inhabitants, the changes through which they 
have passed, the peculiar dispensations of Providence toward 
them, and many other particulars, may be gradually laid open 
to the "redeemed from among men." By means of such com- 
munications they will acquire a clearer and more distinct con- 
ception of the moral character and attributes of God, of the 
rectitude of his administrations, and of "his manifold wisdom" 
in the various modes by which he governs the different prov- 
inces of his vast empire. Under the impressions which such 
views will produce, they will rejoice in the divine government, 
and join with rapture in the song of Moses, the servant of 
God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, " Great and marvel- 
lous are thy works, Lord God Almighty ! Just and true are 
thy ways, thou King of saints ! " 

Thus are these things considered as belonging to the em- 
ployment of the saints ; as among the things that delight 
and improve them in their holy life. Besides these there is 
the idea of being fed by the " Lamb in the midst of the throne," 
which the same writer imagines to be realized in the form of 
"lectures," which may convey to the blessed the most trans- 
porting knowledge of different portions of the universe, thus 
revealing plans and operations calculated to awaken the most 
exalted reverence and devotion. 

"Perhaps," he says, "it may not be beyond the bounds of 
probability to suppose, that at certain seasons, during a grand 
convocation of the redeemed, with Jesus, their exalted Head 
president among them, that glorious personage may impart to 
them knowledge of the most exalted kind, direct their views to 



DR. WATTS' 8 OPINION. 



415 



some bright manifestations of Deity, and deliver most interest- 
ing lectures on the works and ways of God. This would be 
quite accordant with his office as the c Mediator between God 
and man,' and to his character as ? Messenger of Jehovah,' 
and the ? Revealer' of the divine dispensations." 

A similar opinion was entertained by Dr. Watts, who, in 
dwelling upon the same subject, thus declared himself : " Per- 
haps you will suppose there is no such service as hearing ser- 
mons, that there is no attendance upon the word of God these. 
But are we sure there are no such entertainments ? Are there 
no lectures of divine wisdom and grace given to the younger 
spirits there, by spirits of a more exalted station? Or, may not 
our Lord Jesus Christ himself be the everlasting Teacher of his 
church ? May he not at solemn seasons summon all heaven to 
hear him publish some new and surprising discoveries, which 
have never yet been made known to the ages of nature and of 
grace, and are reserved to entertain the attention and to exalt 
the pleasure of spirits advanced to glory ? Must we learn all by 
the mere contemplation of Christ's person? Does he never 
make use of speech, to the instruction and joy of saints above? 
Or, it may be, that our blessed Lord (even as he is man) has 
some noble and unknown way of communicating a long dis- 
course, or a long train of ideas and discoveries, to millions of 
blessed spirits at once, without the formalities of voice and 
language ; and at some peculiar seasons he may thus instruct and 
delight his saints in heaven." 

However pleasant this may be to our present conceptions, it 
is not to be denied that it takes much of its coloring from earthly 
mixtures. Imagination may seek to penetrate the unseen and 
unknown, but it must ever fall back into the shadows of im- 
probability with broken wing and helpless form. It may flutter 
and beat about, but it cannot rise into the inaccessible glory, 
the celestial sunlight, until it shall experience the full vigor of 
complete renovation. There is no basis for the inquiring soul 
more substantial than the simple, inspired declaration, " I shall be 



416 



MINISTRY OF THE DEPARTED. 



satisfied when I awake with thy likeness." This is a firm 
foundation that cannot be removed. It may, indeed, be that 
all these characteristics will exist, that study will be thus pros- 
ecuted, that these modes of communication will be used. We 
are, at least, prepared for the idea of an ever-increasing ex- 
pansion of intellect ; of a limitless capacity and transcendent 
advantages for the acquisition of knowledge. " We shall 
know," is the affirmation of the apostle ; and do we not invest 
this with a peculiar significance? But shall we be absorbed in 
individual improvement? Ah, no! They live not for self 
there. Benevolence gushes like a mighty stream through the 
heavenly host. They have partaken of w the gracious amplitude 
of divine benefits," and are henceforth endued with a universal 
desire to promote goodness and happiness. Whether the thea- 
tre of this world be at all the sphere of this activity, we do not 
certainly know. Whether they are permitted to come back and 
silently minister unto those they have loved, is something of 
which we cannot perfectly assure ourselves. It is exceeding- 
ly pleasant to cherish this idea, to think they still hover over 
us with watchful interest, guiding and sweetly inspiring holy 
emotion, preserving still a delightful bond of sympathy, while 
with uplifted finger they constantly point to the skies, to allure 
us upward to the regions they have found so pleasant. There 
are reasons to favor the impression. How can the saint, dwell- 
ing securely in his heavenly home, with the remembrance of 
the earthly, with its clustering loves and affections, forbear 
reverting with fond interest to those things — those spirits with 
whom joys and sorrows were mingled on the way to Canaan ? 

Have there not been instances of the dying, with clarified 
vision, rejoicing in the recognition of a loved one that has come 
to be their convoy to the world of spirits ? Are there not times 
in the history of the bereaved, when the departed seem round 
about them, almost, as it were, a living presence ? And these are 
seasons when such ripen fast in the Christian graces, when they 
breathe the air of heaven, and imbibe its spirit. We would, by 



EXERCISE OF BENEVOLENCE. 417 

no means, be unmindful, first of all, to recognize the gentle 
influences of the divine Spirit, which the heavenly Teacher is 
pleased to graciously vouchsafe unto his believing children, but 
it may not be foreign to his economy to employ the departed 
ones whom they have loved and mourned, to perfect them in 
Christian virtue and excellence, in meetness for the blessed life 
of the saints. If this be so, so far from it being a calamity to 
have our Christian friends removed from us, it is in reality a 
means of unspeakable good to our souls ; the opening of an 
avenue through which it comes direct from the spirit-land. 
They become the dispensers of heaven's gifts — the almoners of 
its bounty, subject indeed to their divine Employer — the benev- 
olent Jesus. We can but think that in some form or other the 
dwellers in heavenly vales will be employed in doing good. 
J esus was a holy being upon earth ; he came and exemplified 
perfect virtue ; and from his life, it may be, we may argue some- 
thing with reference to the life of those he fitted by his mission 
for a pure sphere, and whom he has translated thither. He 
was incessantly active, and his activity was turned in the 
channel of holy benevolence at all times. "He w r ent about 
doing good," relieving every form of suffering, teaching the 
teachable, comforting the sorrowful, cheering the penitent, and 
blessing the meek and lowly. This manifestation of unexampled 
benevolence reveals a heart of infinite tenderness and compassion ; 
and this is as an essential part of his nature now that he has 
" ascended up on high and led captivity captive," as when he 
lingered with suffering humanity below, and this sympathy will 
doubtless be one thing that he will bestow upon the redeemed. 
True, there will be no sin, pain, or suffering in heaven, and no 
room for a work like unto Christ's earthly work, but heavenly 
occupation will be the embodiment of Christ-like principles, 
though we may not comprehend the manner now. God's nature 
is love, and through all eternity he will remain the same and 
unchangeable, and that which prompted the sacrifice for man's 
recovery and final salvation, will continually and forever find 
27 



418 



STUDY OF CHRIST'S SELF-DENIAL. 



new occasions for its exercise. Under such tuition and disci- 
pline will the saints be perfected in the same attribute. Their 
occupations will be such as love suggests, and they will all be 
performed in the same spirit. The law of heaven will be 
emphatically the law of kindness, and it is not impossible that 
it will create a ladder reaching from heaven to earth, upon 
which " light winged seraphs " descend on embassies of mercy 
to human subjects, and ascend with joyful records of souls tri- 
umphing over sin, and becoming established in grace and god- 
liness — intelligence that causes a general thrill of joy through 
all the celestial empire. We know " there is joy in heaven over 
one sinner that repenteth," and it proves the sympathy that 
exists among the lovers of Jesus, both in heaven and on 
earth. The true church is the same, whether militant or tri- 
umphant, and eventually it will be gathered into one place, 
under the immediate guardianship of the Great Shepherd, there 
to belong to one fold, to know and follow the divine voice which 
they have obeyed in coming out from one world into the green 
pastures of a better. They will then assuredly find appropriate 
employment, and with all the powers of a pure and renovated 
nature, delight to engage in it. 

"One of the employments of heaven," says one, "will un- 
questionably be to endeavor to measure the self-denial of the 
Son of God." What a study is this ? To look at the motives 
which influenced him to resign the glories of his Father's 
throne, and come to earth in such a way, and live such a life, 
and die such a death, for such a purpose, must inspire emo- 
tions that our dull natures know nothing of now while looking 
" through the glass darkly." Every glance will discover more 
of the fulness, freeness, and richness of the mighty love ; of 
the boundless, matchless grace which wrought out and exe- 
cuted the mysterious and wonderful plan of redemption for a 
lost world. Praise must certainly be a prominent idea with 
the saints, — those who have shared so richly in the results of 
Calvary's cross. Eedeeming love must always be the absorb- 



TEE LIFE OF PRAISE. 



419 



ing theme — the thought, the feeling that underlies all others 

— the fountain from whence issues all other streams. 

Ever, as the blessed consciousness of present position fills 
their minds, they must be compelled to say, — 

" 'Twas the same love that spread the feast, 
That sweetly forced me in, 
Else I had still refused to taste, 
And perished in my sin ; " — 

and the reflection must spend itself in a louder note of praise 

— a better offering at the feet of the Lamb who bore their 
sin, and carried their sorrow ; who bought and sprinkled them 
with his own blood. The heavenly courts will resound with 
anthems of praise from these blood-bought ones forever. It 
will be a delightful occupation — the free outpouring of the 
whole being to Him who has washed, redeemed, and safely 
gathered them into so goodly a heritage. There will be per- 
fect union between Christ and his people — perfect sympathy, 
so that it will be counted the highest honor and joy to coop- 
erate with him in every plan. " Eternity will be too short," 
said an eminent and youthful Christian, who was almost 
overwhelmed with a sense of the all-sufficiency of God's free 
grace, "to speak the praises of God." 

" I cannot praise Jesus half enough," said a little heathen 
girl in her simplicity, " my tongue is too short ; " but all 
tongues will be loosed in heaven, and there will be full liberty 
as well as power to shout the praises of the Redeemer. If 
these moments are so sweet upon earth, when the spirit of 
heavenly worship is caught, and the soul is borne exultingly 
aloft, what must it be to stand where praise is the natural 
and unceasing flow, the spontaneous and abiding condition? 
New and countless influences will continually inspire it. 
" There rise, without distraction or division, the united devo- 
tions of myriads of pure and fervent hearts. There mingle 
the grateful songs of an almost infinite number of ransomed 
spirits, all infinitely blest. They worship without distinction, 
and are happy without end." 



420 



CELTIYATIOX OF THE VIRTUES. 



Surely this is a delightful feature of heavenly employment. 
Praise is highly significant of pleasure and approbation in its 
application to our friends here, or to any condition or circum- 
stance. It implies appreciation, a satisfaction with persons 
and things : but we know that its highest exercise here is not 
at all commensurate with that which is known and felt by 
those around the throne in the blissful sphere of the saints. 
It is grateful incense there, and it is never perfectly pure until 
it is chanted by the redeemed. 

All heavenly employments, of whatever character, infinitely 
transcend in interest and benefit any that are known in these 
sublunary regions. They may. and doubtless will, have these 
elements of which we have spoken, but. in proportion so 
magnificently glorious that the realization will scarce bear any 
relation to the puny ideas, yet joyous ones, entertained upon 
earth. We know that mind and character will be eternally 
progressing in knowledge and holiness, and in exact ratio with 
the expansion will be the means for further development : that 
the virtues and graces which so adorn men will be cultivated, 
and brought to beautiful perfection, yielding blossoms of rarest 
loveliness, that will fill the blest abode with sweetest fragrance. 

Thus the cultivation of moral and spiritual excellence is 
evidently one of the heavenly employments. In its own con- 
genial soil, in the presence of Him who was its living embodi- 
ment, the saints will reproduce that which will bear some divine 
resemblance to the original. Every step of advancement will 
be a triumph that will be celebrated with song, and the exhi- 
bition of victorious palms. There will be no lack of employ- 
ment, no failure in it. however stupendous the enterprise that 
claims engagement : for He who gives the commission also 
gives adequate skill and the requisite power for perfect exe- 
cution. 

There are spirits in this world with holy and benevolent 
inclination, that prompts them to the bestowment of good 
continually in some form or other, their highest joy being 



ENDEAVOR CROWNED WITH SUCCESS. 421 



the dissemination of truth, but who, nevertheless, by reason 
of circumstances, prejudice, or some other obstacles, are able 
to accomplish but little, at least in comparison with desire. 
How attractive to such must be the enterprises of the heav- 
enly world, that are never attended with any loss ! The pledge 
is, "It shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." 

Believer in Jesus, "know thy full salvation ; " think of what 
awaits thee when thou shalt be eternally employed in the pure 
service of thy most gracious Lord ; think what it will be w T hen 
a desire swells thy bosom to do something for thy Redeemer, 
to be able to haste to its performance with not a hinderance 
from within or without, and with the full assurance of suc- 
cess. Returning with the offering to lay at his feet, the sen- 
sations of delight that then thrill thy being will whisper un- 
utterable things of the blessedness of the life thou art living, 
and that is yet to be lived. There will be no temptation, 
no sinful suggestion attending it, but only the pure oblation 
from a pure heart; and this is a precious thought, indeed, 
for the best service here is not unmixed with sin and selfish- 
ness. 

Of course, such a condition must be one of unmingled hap- 
piness. It cannot be otherwise. There is the presence of 
everything that tends to promote it, and the absence of all 
things that in any way tend to mar it. 

O, how much the Christian has to hope for, how much to 
anticipate ! 

" To be ever advancing nearer and nearer to the nature of 
our Great Master, though we can never reach it, — to gaze 
ever closer and closer on those glorious and lovely qualities of 
which we can never understand the full perfection, — to ad- 
vance ever farther and farther into the inexhaustible treasury 
of the knowledge of God's mighty works — seems one of the 
sublimest and most interesting and most encouraging, and at 
the same time one of the most rational expectations that a 
zealous Christian can form respecting the blissful state pre- 



422 



HEAVEN A GLAD SURPRISE. 



pared for him." And how much is implied in this pre- 
paration ! 

A young man, in affluent circumstances, was in possession of 
the hand and heart of a ladj whose only fortune was the graces 
of an affectionate spirit, and these she had cheerfully tendered 
to his keeping, at least so far as they were capable of being 
imparted. He was satisfied with the committal, and only 
wished they might minister to his enjoyment by being con- 
stantly before him ; therefore he began a preparation of the 
home to which he had invited her. There was something 
more than convenience studied in those arrangements. There 
was allowance made for taste and pleasure, as objects here 
and there testified, and the effect of all was heightened 
according to the imagined appreciation of the fair one for 
whom it was designed. The value of all was estimated by the 
same standard ; and when the time for final introduction came, 
the countenance of one was indicative of eminent satisfaction, 
and the other of grateful surprise at such lavish provision for 
happiness. Mutual love was the charm that added the zest; 
and as I viewed it, I thought, here is shadowed forth the prin- 
ciple upon which God acts in the preparation of a home for his 
loving ones. He is arranging it for thee now, O Christian, 
and the furnishing of it will be according to the richness of his 
own nature and the unexampled wealth at his disposal ; and in 
the day when he shall call thee to minister unto him, in his 
immediate presence, a glad surprise will doubtless await thee, 
because of the loving care that is manifest in the ample pro- 
vision for happiness in its varied forms. 

We are poor, and can do nothing to aid in adorning or in 
any way furnishing our celestial home to which we are invited ; 
but nothing is required save the offering of a confiding, loving 
heart, and yielding this, it is ours to share the full inher- 
itance. 



BEAUTIFUL ELEMENTS IN NATURE. 423 



CHAPTER XXV. 

SOCIETY OF HEAVEN. 

Beautiful Elements in Nature. — Man communicative and receptive. — Jesus 
loved Society. — Soul made for it. — Degrees in Heaven. — Society of 
Angels, of Christ. — Love the prime Characteristic. — Perfect Apprecia- 
tion found only in full Fruition. 

"The fellowship of noble men, 

Kefining now, transcendent then, 

In zeal, and power, and purity ; 

Tor this, to all eternity, 
When death for life exchanged shall be, 
Dear Lord, I'll render thanks to thee." 

Gob has much to do with beautiful and joyous elements in 
his plans, and these are eminently conspicuous in the social 
instincts, and the provisions to meet their demands. Deeply 
wrought into the structure of the human soul are desires and 
affections that must have objects upon which to devote them- 
selves, or its joy will wither, pine, and die. With their neces- 
sities met, the vigorous outgrowth is such as to challenge 
admiration, both for its use and beauty. They spread broader 
and deeper, and rise higher, sending out new tendrils, that 
attach themselves to new objects, which they cover with their 
rich unfoldings. 

They cannot live and thrive alone. They must be engaged 
in imparting and receiving, or they fail to realize the true con- 
dition of growth and development. They must be met, must 
be reciprocated, or the soul becomes a desert — an absolutely 
sterile waste. 

They who love most, usually find themselves enriched with 



424 SELFISHNESS UNNATURAL AND FATAL. 



the return of the same quality in equal degree ; for like the 
thing of ancient story, it may be constantly poured out, and yet 
be undiminished in quantity, or less powerful in itself, in its 
own inherent worth and ability. The more love is exercised, 
the stronger it becomes. The more it is restrained, and the 
more it is withheld from others, the more intensely selfish does 
one become, and in corresponding proportion is manifest what 
is meant by degradation of soul and unloveliness of character. 

God is continually imparting, and he has made the happi- 
ness and the well-being of his creatures to rest upon the same 
service. Unmindful of the condition, man forfeits all claim to 
the chief good ; and though he studiously seek to appropriate 
it to himself, to his own individual advantage, it is certain he 
will fail in the attempt. 

There is no such thing as a really happy selfish man. Man 
was not made to live for himself alone, and if he try, he finds 
himself out of his native element, and like the fish exiled from 
its watery home, he is uneasy, and the life dies out sooner 
than if he had been surrounded by native and appropriate 
influences. 

One thing intertwines another for the good of mankind, and 
the process of untwisting is unnatural, and induces weakness 
where God ordained strength ; it makes that solitary which, 
it was intended, should be united with its kindred filaments. 
"I am instituted for the pleasure of others," is a voice that 
seems to come from everything in nature ; from loftiest sys- 
tems and lowliest flowers ; from the soft tones of the low, 
murmuring rill of the mountain and the trumpet eloquence of 
many-tongued ocean, that pays its mighty tribute to the world. 

Who has not walked abroad in the shaded avenues of the 
summer forest, and seen the principle illustrated there in the 
ivy that clasps the oak ? 

It creeps upward, sending out new shoots and fibres, and is 
beautiful and luxuriant while thus protected and embraced; 
but let its support be taken away, and it trails upon the ground, 



MAN SOCIAL. 



425 



bruised, broken, shorn of its glory, with scarce a trace of its 
peculiar character. The course which Heaven directs for the 
ivy is upward, and its nature is clinging and confiding, and we 
admire it most when we find it in the position it was designed 
to fill ; so when we find man fulfilling the purposes of his 
being, when we see his social nature rising and developing, 
when we see it turned into the right channel, and growing 
under auspicious influences, we feel that he is approximating 
somewhat unto the standard that was erected for him. He 
must needs mingle with his fellow-men in mutual and loving 
intercourse, or the tender qualities of his social nature will 
forever remain in the bud, without disclosing their interior 
richness at all. What is a hermit's life but a waste? It is 
folly to imagine that the graces of character and goodness of 
heart can be as well cultivated in a desert or cave as out under 
the broad sunlight of the moral hemisphere, where the dews 
of kindly charities fall softly, and yet with power upon the 
heart, causing sweetest blossoms to spring up and send forth 
fragrance to cheer and bless others. 

They will not reach perfection in the shade. They will be 
like the slender, sickly stems of the plant that is shut out from 
light and heat. The appropriate nourishment is wanting, and 
there is no proper growth. 

History tells us of an individual who was condemned to 
years of solitude, to perfect exclusion from the world and men, 
and during this time he grew so ignorant of the amenities of life 
that at his release he was unconscious of obligation and unfit 
for its discharge. 

His mind had reached a state of inanity, in which he 
scarcely comprehended the commonest things, and his heart 
was barren of those things that a social atmosphere would have 
developed. 

Isolation is unnatural — God has made it so ; and it is produc- 
tive of most disastrous results to those who are forced into it. Its 
very air is withering, contracting souls and hearts until they 



426 



JESUS LOVED SOCIETY. 



are very unlike those that came from the hand of a benevolent 
Creator, expansive, and capable of performing great and heroic 
deeds. The social law is everywhere apparent. Flowers are 
arranged in species, and these have kindred wants, form, and 
color, giving the same odor, and presenting the same appear- 
ance wherever they are found. Trees send out their seeds to 
the passing breeze, which deposits them in the soil below, and 
they spring up, nestling around the parent tree, as if they would 
tell of reciprocal interest ; and animals group together in herds, 
and the alarm that awakes consternation in one affects the 
whole. Birds are wont to gather in companies, and sail through 
airy regions for a common end ; and bees centre where their 
king alights. In all these God had bid us look and see the 
advantage and security to be obtained in loving union, — the 
dignity and pleasure of well-ordered society. 

Man, preeminently distinguished by the endowment of rea- 
son, is* called to the maintenance of society upon a loftier basis ; 
but the lower orders of creation might furnish him with beau- 
tiful models with which he might rear his own superior structure 
with additional advantage. 

Selfishness is not invested with the highest kind of skill, nor 
does it work with ease, for it is the use of powers in just the 
way they were not made to be used, it is the employment of 
them in direct opposition to the divine method. The whole 
constitution of man is an exhibition of God's benevolence, and 
he is called to make a similar display according to his ability, 
not indeed in creation, but in the imitation of those virtues 
which form the divine character. There is no higher style 
of life than to live to do good. This was the life that Jesus 
lived. His sympathy extended to all classes, to the poorest 
and most abject, and his pardon was freely given to the peni- 
tent, though he had sinned grievously. He shunned not these, 
but he loved to turn in where loving circles delighted to 
greet him, that they might listen to heavenly teaching, that 
they might minister unto the wants of his sacred person. With 



SOUL MADE FOB FELLOWSHIP. 



427 



such he chose to "abide," and to such he made known the rich- 
est communications of his truth. It was a blessed interchange 
they experienced ; but Christ would have more than these 
occasional interviews ; therefore he selected the band of twelve, 
that in the society of these faithful ones he might, as it were, 
have fullest scope for the exercise of his social nature. How 
perfect was their confidence, how rich the communion of those 
congenial souls that were united to each other and to their Lord ! 
And from these went forth a hallowed influence that is felt in 
society until this day, and shall never lose its power while 
there are Christians upon earth to commune with each other. 

Friendly meetings and greetings, under ordinary circum- 
stances, are pleasant and satisfying. Perhaps there is no higher 
earthly enjoyment than that which is realized in the circle of 
true and tried friends, who care for us, sympathize with us, 
and attend us all the way of life with unabated affection. And 
this life-long devotion seems the pledge of its renewal and 
perpetuation in another world, if it stand upon the holy basis 
of Christianity. 

" All are friends in heaven — all faithful friends ; 
And many friendships, in the days of time 
Begun, are lasting here, and growing still." 

This indeed invests Christian society here with an indescrib- 
able charm, for it is a preparation for the banquet that is spread 
in the Father's house, and to which all are invited who have 
a taste for sacred things. The tie which binds Christians 
together, while they are here below, is strong. The links of 
the chain which encircles them are forged in heaven ; and if, 
now and then, we miss a bright one, it is because the heavenly 
Workman has need of them in higher service, and takes them. 

It is infinite and all-embracing love that lets down the chain 
from the blissful heights where it is wrought ; and it is the same 
that will eventually draw those in the circle in holiest bonds 
around the throne. And if there is so much to be enjoyed in 
social life upon earth, amid all the imperfection incident to 



428 



FELLOWSHIP IN HEAVEN. 



human nature, with so much of misrepresentation and misun- 
derstanding as there always is, then what will it be to find 
its full perfection in a sphere where these things are all un- 
known ? Friendly intimacy is a tree laden with rich fruit, its 
luscious burden continually dropping all about us, and it is 
that to which we cling with the greatest eagerness when we 
feel our hold of life loosening, and are conscious that we must 
launch away. As time and its joys gradually recede, there 
are none that retain a greater charm than those experienced in 
the society of friends whom the heart loves. So powerful is 
their attraction, that it costs the ripest Christian, with his 
clearest hopes, a pang to resign them for a season. This 
fact, however, foreshadows the richness of heavenly intercourse. 
He who made the social nature what it is, and provided so 
amply for its conditions here, will surely give equal attention 
to its enlarged capacity there : and what, then, will it be to 
enjoy the society of heaven? Who will compose it, and what 
position have we to expect in those high circles ? Shall we sit 
down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and hear from them 
the stories of their pilgrimage, and of their long experience in 
the promised land ? or will the difference be so great that there 
can be no reaching the lofty heights to which they have at- 
tained ? For centuries of our time they have been looking into 
the scheme of redemption, learning rapidly under their divine 
Teacher, and have reached a stature we cannot comprehend, but 
possibly may attain some time in the ages of eternity, at which 
period they, too, will have made corresponding progress, and 
remain at equal distance from us in point of knowledge and 
excellence. But if we enter the golden gates, the same prin- 
ciples which animate their bosoms will animate ours ; the same 
love which incites them to holy action will incite us also ; and 
the same gratitude which inspires their songs will be the soul 
of ours too. Their Saviour is our Saviour, and their God our 
God ; and the same atonement and cross in which they glory 
will be our glory as well. Will not this awaken a common 



DIVERSITIES OF GIFTS IN HEAVEN. 



429 



fellowship, and make them feel an interest in all those that 
are saved, though they came from obscurest vales of earth, and 
knew poverty and tribulation ? If anything, it might seem that 
a fitness for such wonderful distinction as a seat in heaven, 
wrought out under such circumstances, would so enhance the 
divine love and mercy that it would immediately call forth the 
adoration of the highest intelligences, besides granting a welcome 
to the happy recipients of distinguishing goodness. 

There are different gifts and graces bestowed upon individuals 
in this world, and there are some prepared for positions that 
others are not at all fitted for, and we recognize the arrange- 
ment as wise and necessary. There have always been different 
standards in the church from the time of the apostles to the 
present, and what is characteristic of the church militant, may 
be, in a measure, of the church triumphant. If all were to 
stand equal on Mount Zion above, then would it be natural to 
suppose that they would stand upon the same level here, for the 
nursery of heaven is below, and the preparation will doubtless 
bear some relation to that which is to follow. Uniformity of 
knowledge and attainment would not be a desirable state of 
things in any society, either on earth or in heaven. It certainly 
detracts nothing from the society of the celestial world that there 
are degrees of happiness and glory there. The most eminent 
Christians that we know now excite our highest respect and 
admiration, and they stimulate us to emulate their zeal and 
virtue, though it may be we are not wholly exempt from feel- 
ings of envy ; but in that place where so unamiable a trait is 
never manifest, it may be supposed that we shall feel correspond- 
ing emotions to those far above us. In proportion to their 
holiness, and likeness to Christ, will be our love for them. So 
far from the difference producing a shade of dissatisfaction, 
happiness will be increased by it. The purely benevolent 
rejoice that another has gained a reward better than they. 
They forget their own standing, their own merit, in the joy they 
feel in the prosperity of others. The highest style of benevo- 



430 



MEASURE OF JOY IN EE AVE N. 



lence exists in the community of the saints, and love there will 
flow from heart to heart, extending through all ranks up to the 
"favorite angel " that stands nearest to the dazzling throne. It 
may be that our familiarity will be with circles of congenial 
spirits, who, like us, move in a given sphere, and are fitted for 
certain employments and for kindred action ; but, whatever be 
our position, it is safe to say there will be enjoyment to the 
fullest capacity. 

Some will be capable of enjoying more than others ; they 
have done more than others ; lived longer for Christ, worked 
longer in his vineyard, and gathered more sheaves for the 
Lord's garner. They have added more gems to the Eedeemer's 
crown, and consequently feel more interest in the radiance 
emitted therefrom. They have an experience that those less 
faithful and earnest cannot have, and this is according to reason 
in every department of life. It is just that reward should bear 
a relation to service, and it is true that interest and appreciation 
are measured by the amount of effort that has been given. 

Those that have gathered rich spiritual harvests, who have 
been instrumental in winning many souls into the kingdom, will 
have an element in their cup of bliss that some will not have. 
Those that consecrated themselves to Jesus in the glad morning 
of existence, will have a remembrance, a present joy, the depth 
of which cannot be found in him who gave the remnant of his 
days, when he was worn out in the service of the world. Grace 
has done its work for all the heavenly inmates, and they are 
happy, but it is happiness controlled in some measure by their 
course on earth. 

"Will not Paul, who was counted worthy to suffer so much 
for Christ, be happier, when he reviews from his seat in glory the 
fortunes of his eventful life, than the thief who became a believer 
upon the cross, who was saved as by fire, and who, besides his 
repentance and acceptance of Christ's mercy, had perhaps not 
one good deed to follow him ? It may be said that the joy of 
the great apostle, equally with that of the thief, will consist in 



MEASURE OF RECOMPENSE. 



431 



adoring that condescending love which snatched him from the 
jaws of hell : this will no doubt be one element in his bliss, to 
which the other will be added. He must behold, with exceed- 
ing delight, the still increasing effects of his wonderful ministry. 
The same with other eminent Christians." They are to shine as 
stars forever and ever, as those of the first magnitude, while 
those of lesser power fill their appropriate orbit with their own 
intensity of light, an intensity, however, that might have been 
greater by the more rigid observance of the rules of that philos- 
ophy of life which the Divine Mind has written out as a basis 
for the celestial. 

The husbandman who plants much, and bestows correspond- 
ing labor, has a richer harvest than another who has done less. 
He has a right to more, and he expects more, and the same 
principle is true in the spiritual world — they that plant and 
sow shall reap the reward of planting and sowing in their future 
life, and that shall be according to the seed and the cultivation, 
not by the quantity of ground occupied. 

Poor sufferers, that have not been able even to cast in the 
seed, but who have watched and prayed with patient and thought- 
ful interest for hopeful indications of refreshing showers to bles3 
the moral world, — such shall find their patience has brought 
them a harvest of joy they did not expect. Christian endurance 
of suffering may exalt one to a loftier seat in heaven than 
might have been obtained by the most vigorous action in seem- 
ingly more favorable circumstances. Not as man judgeth, but as 
the Lord, will be the final disposition ; justice and equity are 
what every saint will find to be the inscription on the particular 
post assigned him. 

Perfect satisfaction will make every countenance radiant with 
divinest love. Perfect joy will fill all hearts as they mingle 
together in delightful intercourse. They shall come " from the 
east and the west, from the north and the south," and sit down 
to the heavenly banquet — welcome guests to a glorious feast. 
Blessed are they who shall be gathered there, who shall for- 
ever remain recipients of such refined and select society. 



432 SOCIAL ADVANTAGES IN HEAVEN. 



A godly lady was called to leave her pleasant home, and the 
privileges of cultivated society, for a new and almost uncivil- 
ized portion of the Western world. Nature was fair and lovely 
in the place of her adoption, but she pined for the congenial 
circles she had left, the sympathy of friends, and the thousand 
nameless advantages of superior life. Nothing external com- 
pensated for these ; and finding her spirit depressed under the 
influence of the deprivation, she went out into the temple of 
nature and reared an altar to the Most High, whom she be- 
sought to bring her into more perfect sympathy with the great 
company that he had gathered to himself, and whom she hoped 
to join when the discipline of life should be finished. She came 
to live more and more in anticipation of that time, and in com- 
munion with the unseen found the demands of her soul more 
fully met than she had known before. Once admitted into 
the celestial society, there will be none of these painful expul- 
sions, no removal into distant and uncongenial climes, no 
separations from the loving and confidential who seemed almost 
necessary to existence. There is no isolation there. The so- 
cial delights are unfailing, and those who enjoy them live and 
abide in them forevermore. 

It is counted a great honor among the sons of men to be 
invited to sit at a table at which great men preside, men who 
are distinguished in the varied walks of life as persons of 
genius or erudition. These seasons are regarded almost as 
epochs in individual history, and they are reverted to in 
thought and conversation with peculiar interest. If this be 
pleasant, who can tell the joy that will thrill the soul when 
the invitation of the heavenly King shall sound in the ears, 
" Come sit at my table, and listen to the eloquent sentiments of 
those whom I have brought from every nation and condition, 
embracing every variety of talent and disposition, all sanctified 
by grace, and of the fulness and sweetness of which its pos- 
sessors stand ready to impart ! " It is an honor to be a guest 
at such a table, to be counted one of such an assembly. "That 



FELLOWSHIP WITH THE GIFTED AND GOOD. 433 



gathering," says one, " will embrace Abel, Enoch, and Noah, 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Joshua, Sam- 
uel, David, and Josiah, Isaiah and all the prophets, John the 
Baptist and the evangelists, Stephen, and the whole glorious 
army of martyrs. Who shall undertake to estimate the pleas- 
ure and profit of conversing freely with him w T ho was the first 
to enter heaven ; with him who, in the midst of antediluvian 
giants, walked with God ; with him who passed out of the ark 
on Mount Ararat, built the first altar in the solitude of a de- 
populated world, and gazed on its first bow of promise ; with 
him who built an altar on Mount Moriah, and with him who 
was laid an offering thereon ; with him who put off his shoes 
on Sinai, and forty days and forty nights spake familiarly with 
God in the thick cloud that was on the mount? O, what will 
be the luxury of listening to the psalmist of Israel as he strikes 
his heavenly lyre ! of sitting down under the tuition, succes- 
sively, of all those holy men of old who spake as they were 
moved by the Holy Ghost ! What rapture must there be in 
talking with those who had the gift of tongues, who wrought 
many miracles, and — what is far more memorable — -went 
everywhere, in the midst of perils and reproaches, as the first 
ambassadors for Christ ! 

" That banqueting assembly is not, however, limited to 
Scripture Worthies. It embraces multitudes from subsequent 
times. There sit Ignatius and Polycarp, Augustine and Chrys- 
ostom, Athanasius and Basil. Around that board are gathered 
the mighty army of Protestant reformers, the chief fathers of 
New England and Old England, and the renowned champions 
for truth and holiness from all countries and all centuries of the 
Christian era. Who will not esteem heaven a more desirable 
place because John Howe and John Owen are there ? because 
Usher and Leighton, Wesley and Whitefield, Eliot and Brai- 
nerd are there ? Who will not esteem it peculiar happiness to 
associate with one who discoursed so fully on the ? Saints' Ever- 
lasting Best,' and with one whose sweet strains are sung Sabbath 
28 



434 



REUNION OF FRIENDS. 



after Sabbath by thousands of assemblies on earth ? Who will 
not be rejoiced at such an interview with that ingenious dreamer 
who immortalized Bedford Jail, and whose Pilgrim has gone 
forth over all the earth ? " 

There they gather in common fellowship, moved by one im- 
pulse, and that is love. They stand in one and the same rela- 
tion to Jesus. They have been redeemed by his blood, and 
have, therefore, the same bond of sympathy, and are encircled 
by the same divine Presence. 

Moreover, our intimate friends and acquaintances are there, 
those whom we knew, that we mingled and conversed with when 
they were upon the earth. They have grown wise in the new 
economy. They have become initiated into the mysteries of 
the unseen, fluent in the dialect of the saints, and can impart 
much that to us is sublime and wonderful. They have their 
place at the social board, and contribute to the richness of the 
occasion. 

Sitting by their side, they might tell us of the peculiarity 
of that victory which they obtained ; how infinite love was the 
key that unlocked every prison door ; of deliverances that were 
wrought for them by more than angelic skill when they saw no 
way of escape, and how they were conducted through the dark 
valley, and of the cordial reception they received at Immanuel's 
court, the conclusion of which might be a grateful song for so 
glorious a triumph. 

We may find, too, eminent Christians who have influenced 
us, though we have never seen them. The record of their 
noble deeds, their fidelity in the cause of Christ, their devotion 
and self-denial, may have reached us, and influenced us to do 
more than we should otherwise have done. It may indeed have 
allured to the decision to begin the new life, to choose the good 
part, and consecrate heart and soul to Him who rightfully 
demands it. If ever thrown into the society of these, shall we 
not seek an introduction to them, or shall we be drawn intui- 
tively, as to those to whom, under God, we owe much? If 



CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP ETERNAL. 435 



they have been the means, though unconsciously, of shaping a 
soul in its heavenward course, of perfecting it, in any degree, 
in the divine life, they will not be ignorant of it through all 
eternity. It is service for which they will be rewarded ; and 
this implies a revelation ; and, this made known, will not the 
desire of recognition arise, coupled, perchance, with another, 
to be of continued service, that prompts search through the 
blessed ranks for the person thus enlisting our regard ? 

"Many," says Whately, "have lived in various and distant 
ages and countries, who have been, in their characters, in the 
agreements of their tastes, and suitableness of dispositions, 
perfectly adapted, for friendship with each other, but who, of 
course, could never meet in this world. Many a one selects, 
when he is reading history, a truly pious Christian, most es- 
pecially in reading sacred history, some one or two favorite 
characters, with whom he feels that a personal acquaintance 
would have been peculiarly delightful to him. Why should not 
such a desire be realized in a future state ? " 

Friendships are limited in this world, not only to those 
who live in the same age and country, but to a small portion 
even of them, — to a small portion even of those who are not 
unknown to us, and whom we know to be estimable and amia- 
ble, and whom we feel might have been among our dearest 
friends. Our command of time and leisure to cultivate friend- 
ships imposes a limit to their extent : they are bounded rather 
by the occupation of our thoughts than of our affections. And 
the removal of such impediments in a better world seems to 
me a most desirable and a most probable change. 

Not only will our earthly attachments remain in connection 
with those who have trod the same path to glory with us, with 
whom we have taken " sweet counsel " together in heavenly 
things, but, in all probability, the circle of acquaintance will 
be continually extended in heaven. We shall rejoice in new 
friendships and new attachments, and thus find the bounds of 
our society enlarging, to our infinite and eternal advantage. 



436 



BLESSED SOCIETY OF HEAVEN. 



There will be the kind, the sympathetic, the loving, in short, 
the " pure in heart," the "just made perfect," and in their so- 
ciety we shall feel perfectly at home, either understanding or 
easily made to understand every topic which engages their at- 
tention, and at the same time feeling an interest commensurate 
with its importance. To these circles we shall be made fully 
welcome. There are no discordant elements there, no selfish 
hearts, no jealous spirits, none that are envious or uncharita- 
ble, nor any to bestow the unfriendly and furtive glance. 

What happiness to mingle in such society ! What joy to 
have access to such circles ! We wonder not that a devout 
soul exclaims, M O, blessed and glorious society ! where no con- 
tentions ever arise, where no malignant spirit interrupts the 
universal harmony, where no malevolent affection is ever dis- 
played, where no provocation disturbs the serenity of the 
mind ; where not one revengeful thought arises against the 
most depraved inhabitant of the universe ; where a single false- 
hood is never uttered; where folly, impertinence, and error 
never intrude ; where no frown sits lowering on the counte- 
nance, and no cloud ever intercepts the sunshine of benevolence ; 
where ' Holiness to the Lord ' is inscribed on every heart ; 
where every member is knit to another by the indissoluble 
bonds of affection and esteem ; where a friendship is com- 
menced which shall never be dissolved ; where love glows in 
every bosom, and benignity beams from every countenance ; 
where moral excellence is displayed in its most sublime, and 
diversified, and transporting forms ; where f a multitude which 
no man can number, from all nations, and kindreds, and 
peoples, and tongues,' join in unison with angels and arch- 
angels, principalities and powers, in swelling the song of sal- 
vation to Him that sits upon the throne , and unto the Lamb, 
forever and ever." 

It is to such society as this that Jesus would introduce us, 
for this he seeks to fit us in all those events that look so myste- 
rious and strange to us. It needs preparation — a peculiar 



FELLOWSHIP WITH ANGELS. 



437 



preparation ; and who knows better than He how we may best 
secure it? We are not only to mingle with those, who, like 
ourselves, have been "aliens and strangers," but have received 
the " adoption," with all the advantages accruing therefrom ; 
with those who have wandered and been reclaimed ; but there 
will also be intercourse with angels — the sinless ones, who 
stand, an innumerable company, around the holy throne. And 
who can tell what advantage the soul will derive from such 
fellowships as these? from the engagement of the faculties with 
such high intelligences? How rapid must be its progress in 
"knowledge, holiness, and bliss" under such diversified and 
happy influences ! What blissful themes of converse will be 
introduced, what delightful thoughts interchanged ! The an- 
gels know nothing, practically, of redemption. They " desire 
to look into it ; " and as they hear the story of the cross from 
those who have felt its life-giving power, and are saved, what 
will be their admiration of the wonderful plan ! — for they, too, 
though spotless, are subjects of the divine government. Yet 
they are to be our associates forever — our loving and loved 
companions, whose attendance and intimacy are to have no 
abatement in all the ages that we shall know. They, doubtless, 
will be our teachers in the studies that we shall pursue ; they, 
whose knowledge has never been obtained from any earthly 
fountains, whose philosophy has not been derived through 
any imperfect and uncertain process. They have always 
drawn directly from the overflowing fountain of eternal truth, 
and are, therefore, eminently qualified to act the part of 
teachers in the exalted sciences of heaven to those who, in 
comparison, know but little more than the celestial alphabet. 
Although they stand as superior intelligences, there will be, 
nevertheless, an element in the song of the redeemed that they 
cannot fully comprehend. They have never felt the power of 
sin, never exulted in the blood of the Lamb as delivering them 
from it, and they cannot join, as saints do, in the anthem of 
praise for the all-atoning sacrifice. 



438 



FULL AND PERFECT COMMUNION. 



Their knowledge is varied and extensive ; their sympathy 
perfect and all-embracing, according to the law of the realm ; 
but there is a difference that must ever remain, though not 
such as to cause a line of separation. Angels belong to heav- 
enly society — they constitute a part of it, and we, if redeemed, 
shall also have a right in it. What, then, have we to anticipate ! 
In view of it, the longing soul has often exclaimed, — ■ 

" I want to put on my attire, 

Washed white in the blood of the Lamb ; 
I want to be one of your choir, 

And tune my sweet harp to His name ; 
I want — 0, I want to be there, 

Where sorrow and sin bid adieu ; 
Your joy and your friendship to share, 

To wonder and worship with you ! " 

The obscure and lowly Christian, who is denied access to the 
circles of so-called refined and polished society, has withal a 
prospect of being admitted into full communion with saints and 
angels in the brilliant mansions of the City of God, of being 
escorted through those more than princely halls by willing and 
thoughtful guides. It is for such to share freely and fully in 
all the pleasurable provisions of the place, with the feeling 
that they are in the possession, the enjoyment, of that which 
was intended expressly for them ; which was arranged with 
special reference to their coming. 

They are invited into full fellowship with all who sit at the 
social board of heaven, whatever be the rank from which 
they came, whatever position they have previously held. They 
have too many things in common there for division of feeling ; 
too many things of mutual interest to be estranged, or indiffer- 
ent to each other's happiness and welfare. Their " feelings, 
hopes, and aims " are emphatically one there. Society is held 
together by a bond that cannot be broken. Its strength and 
unity can never be unfavorably affected, for the Saviour him- 
self preserves its brightness and beauty. He watches over 
the vast assembly ; he is himself the leading spirit, the chief 



FELLOWSHIP WITH CHRIST. 



439 



joy — all that makes heaven what it is. If he should with- 
draw himself, the glory of Paradise would be gone, the beauty 
of the Holy City faded, its charm fled, and deepest gloom 
would darken the heavenly atmosphere, and there would be 
night there. Society would lose its attraction, though angel 
and archangel, and saint of every degree, remain. 

The social attractions of the upper sphere are, indeed, very 
great, when viewed from points already mentioned ; but every 
Christian will say, It is not enough unless Jesus be with me there. 
It is not shining streets, nor pearly gates, nor any external con- 
sideration that is going to satisfy the Christian heart in heaven. 
It is not friend, angel, cherubim or seraphim, that will fill his 
soul to satisfaction, but the smile of Him who hath redeemed 
him. This is the prime characteristic of heavenly joy, the dis- 
tinctive and blessed feature of its society, its crowning glory, 
and this is what hope exults in as it looks eagerly forward from 
every Christian observatory. 

But will there be personal fellowship between Christ and all 
his saints? Are we to aspire to this, we, so low, so unworthy, 
who have done so little for the honor of his name, whose love- 
returns have been so meagre, and whose concern for his glory 
has been so small ? 

The sacred record has such intimations, and it warrants us in 
cherishing them. It tells us that we shall see him, serve him, 
and reign with him, and this in such a manner as to imply inti- 
mate communion with him. It was enough for the dying thief 
to hear his Lord say, " To-day shalt thou be with me." The 
heavenly host might surround him, but the joy of pardoned sin 
never came from them. They never expunged a single stain 
that had rested upon his guilty soul, and there must needs be 
the assuring face that had beamed so kindly upon him from Cal- 
vary, or he could not be happy, nor feel that his title was secure. 
So will it be with us. We must needs have the presence and 
fellowship of Jesus to make heaven complete. He only can 
meet the demands of the soul ; and this he knew when his love 



440 



CHRIST THE RAPTURE OF HEAVEN. 



for his disciples prompted the petition, "Father, I will that they 
also whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that 
they may behold my glory which thou hast given me." 

Christ has consummated a vital and tender union between 
himself and his loving and faithful ones, and he meets them 
often in loving communion while they are upon the earth. He 
draws nigh as they approach the sacramental table, to commem- 
orate the wonderful exhibition of love displayed by the cross, 
and gives visions and anticipations that kindle a higher flame on 
the altar of devotion ; he visits them when they are in sorrow, 
and pours the oil of consolation into their troubled bosoms ; he 
is by their side when they faint under the burdens of life, to 
sustain and uphold them ; he comes at the trying seasons of 
bereavement, and assures of his unfailing friendship ; when joys 
that have been dear to the soul take wings and fly away, he 
whispers with gentlest voice, " Fear not, little flock." " Come 
unto me, and I will give yoti rest." 

Precious are these interviews with Christ below. They 
make the soul glad when all things else are withdrawn. The 
Christian heart prizes these infinitely above every earthly con- 
sideration, and it mourns unceasingly if they are inconstant 
and few, and looks within and around to ascertain the cause 
of the painful absence. It matters not what are the surround- 
ings ; affluence and luxury may smile, and prosperity of tem- 
poral nature abound, but the soul pants for the light of his 
face, who is " chief among ten thousand," and the one r? alto- 
gether lovely," and it cannot be satisfied until the celestial 
beams are obtained. 

This light will beam in heaven steadily and everlastingly. 
The soul's prospect will never be dimmed or clouded in the 
least. It will never mourn the hidings of God's face ; for 
Christ will commune lovingly and constantly with the re- 
deemed. "O, what rapture will that be! Happy were the 
wise men when they found him at Bethlehem ; happy was 
gray-headed Simeon when he saw him in the temple ; happy 



BLISS IN TEL PRESENCE OF CHRIST. 441 



the woman with whom he talked at J acob's well ; happy his 
own mother as she sat at his feet ; happy the disciples whose 
hearts burned as he talked with them by the way ; happy the 
whole brotherhood when he came suddenly into the midst of 
them with his heavenly r Peace be unto you ; ' but all these 
favors were only faint foretastes of the intimacy of heaven. To 
stand side by side with the Lord J esus ; to walk with him in 
light ; to lean where the beloved disciple leaned — that, that 
is heaven." He is, indeed, " the bright and morning Star " of 
that blessed world ; not less the "Alpha and Omega " there than 
here. Ah ! heaven is his presence, be it where it may, and 
for this, in this, and to this, is the end of the Christian's hope. 

There is no narrative that so thrills the soul of the believer 
as that of the life of Jesus ; his leaving his Father's throne, 
and coming to a sinful world to be " despised and rejected ; " 
to live in obscurity and indigence when his soul had been 
accustomed to the holy refinements and unexampled wealth of 
the celestial kingdom, and all from purest benevolence to a 
fallen race. 

Deepest emotions are stirred by the wondrous record of Him 
who went over the hills of Judea and the vales of Palestine 
doing good, who comforted the sad, healed the sick, raised the 
dead, walked on the sea, rebuked the winds, stilled the tem- 
pests, taught by the wayside, prayed on the mountain, was 
apprehended by enemies, scourged in the judgment-hall, for- 
saken by friends, left to the agony of Gethsemane, burdened 
with the cross, crucified on Calvary, laid in the tomb, arose in 
triumph, and finally ascended from the midst of his weeping 
disciples to his throne again, having completed the most won- 
derful scheme that men or angels ever beheld. What an 
exhibition is here ! Its full expression is hidden from the 
power of language. 

Its fullest appreciation will be known in heaven, where it is 
constantly studied ; but there will never be a time there when 
we shall have learned so much that there will be nothing more 
to learn. 



442 FULL FRUITION IN HEAVEN. 



There, before us, will ever be the same Jesus whose won- 
derful history has so engaged our attention, whose life and 
death have been so replete with interest to the soul feeling its 
eternal destiny dependent upon him. Christ is the Christian's 
watchword, his talisman, his all; but, with his highest con- 
ceptions, it is little that he knows while he is an occupant 
of flesh. Such is his feebleness of intellectual apprehension, 
he does not comprehend him perfectly ; and such is the vacil- 
lating condition of the heart, it wavers between him and the 
world. This may, and will be, a matter of deepest regret to 
those desiring holiness, who would cordially embrace Christ, 
and live with an abiding sense of his favor; but they will 
have more or less of this to contend with while they remain 
subject to mortality. 

They must emerge into the full light of immortality before 
they will comprehend and appreciate perfectly the salvation 
procured for them by the atoning Lamb. They must mingle 
in the society of heaven, and hear the saved and the pure tell 
of joyful completeness before they will realize the whole of 
its meaning. Ah ! they must hear Jesus himself saying 
K Good and faithful " before the fountain opened for salva- 
tion will pour the full tide of bliss upon the ravished and 
satisfied soul. A glimpse of heavenly glory made Jacob feel 
that his nightly couch in the wilderness was none other than 
the house of God and the gate of heaven ; and if a transient 
view be so sweet, what must be the abiding vision within the 
gate? Christ, saints, and angels are there; friends, connec- 
tions, and acquaintances ; " apostles, martyrs, prophets, all." 
To their society we are invited. Who would not be a guest 
at so distinguished a feast? 



GUARDIAN ANGELS. 



443 



CHAPTEE XXVI. 

ANGELS. 

Guardian Angels. — The Good and Evil. — Angel Organism. — TJieir Ap- 
pearance to Patriarchs and Prophets. — Swift-winged. — Their appro- 
priate Office. — Silent Ministration to Christians. — The Relation of the 
Earthly and the Heavenly. 

" With saintly shout and solemn jubilee 
All the bright seraphim, in burning row, 
Their loud, uplifted angel-trumpets blow ; 
And the cherubic host, in thousand choirs, 
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
Hymns devout and holy psalms 
Singing everlastingly." — Milton. 

It is a beautiful thought entertained by some, that each 
individual has his guardian angel, in constant attendance, 
prompting to beneficent thought and action, and restraining, 
by gentlest influence, from unhallowed desires and purposes 
through all the devious pathway of life. In all waywardness 
and folly, the same pure and unwearied companion is nigh to 
guide, suggest, and bless ; to celebrate every victory, and 
record every triumph, and to convey the welcome intelligence 
to the waiting host above by the telegraph that is ever open 
between himself and heaven. Every milestone that is reached 
in the advance course to the celestial city is a Bethel where 
Christian and the angel rejoice, recording new conquests and 
new hopes, besides receiving strength to proceed with new alac- 
rity and vigor in the part of the journey that yet remains — a 
part that would be toilsome and wearisome without loving and 
heavenly guidance. 



444 



ATTENDANT SPIRITS. 



Over against this loving union, and in contradistinction from 
it, is another opinion, that an evil angel likewise obtrudes him- 
self, and persists in his right to incline in such direction as his 
fiendish nature prompts, thus placing one in the very centre of 
good and evil, with scarce power to maintain even an equilib- 
rium, to say nothing of progress in the heavenly course. We 
know there is much in life that corresponds to this ; that it is a 
series of conflicts from the first moments of discretion to the last 
moments of rational action ; but we know not how much of it 
is attributable to angelic agency. We know not if these whis- 
perings, that bid us proceed or beware, come from these unseen 
attendants that closely follow us in our walks, triumphing in 
our woe or our weal, according as we yield or stand firm. 

It is not to be denied that there is something very pleasant 
in the thought that a pure spirit continually surrounds us, in- 
tent in every act to further our interest in the great salvation, 
to keep us steadily fixed in a heavenly direction, to aid us in 
every struggle to overcome sin and the world, and to turn us 
when inclined to be recreant to our high privileges. To have 
an angel in this lonely world for a guide, protector, and 
prompter, is an inspiring thought, though he be unseen. 

The very consciousness of such a presence is elevating to 
the soul, and asserts its grandeur and the dignity of its calling. 
If it be of such importance that it be placed in the guardian- 
ship of pure spirits from the heavenly world, surely its final 
destiny is a matter of consequence. If, while subject to earthly 
influences, it be thus lovingly embraced, how much interest 
it bespeaks for it in Him who made it a living and accountable 
being. 

In this, however, we would not lose sight of the grand, 
central idea of the Christian faith, which is the abounding grace 
of God, nor of the indispensable ministration of the divine 
Spirit, through whose agency alone the soul is made to com- 
prehend its true position, and seek for refuge in the (f hiding- 
place " under the shadow of the cross. 



ANGELIC OEGANISM. 



445 



Jesus, as we have said before, is the sun and centre of the 
Christian system ; neither saint, nor angel can fill his place, or 
usurp his prerogative ; but we know the latter have been 
employed by God ever since the creation of man, to say nothing 
of ante-mundane existence, and in such a way as to make them 
the medium through which he would communicate himself and 
his will to mankind. Angels have a part in Bible history, from 
beginning to end, and we inquire with deepest interest about 
those intelligences, who bear such important and interesting 
relations to man, as these are seen to have. They "shouted 
for joy " at the grand exhibition at the creation of the world, 
when He, to whom they had ministered, displayed in such a 
wonderful manner his omnipotence and his glory, his love and 
benevolence. All we know of them is their action, and it is 
this which, in all cases, reveals true character and motive. 
We know not much of their likeness, nor is it necessary that 
we should. The common and most prevalent idea, perhaps, is 
that they are pure spirits, without the organic surroundings to 
which mortal men have been subject, and that when they have 
assumed a form, in the fulfilment of their earthly errands, they 
have done it only as the necessities of the occasion required. 
It is true they have never been encumbered with dust-made 
bodies, that limit the purposes of the active and willing spirit ; 
age and infirmity have had no influence in retarding their 
execution of the divine plans, and they know not either dimi- 
nution or decay of benevolent power. Theirs is immortal 
energy through past and future eternity ; but there is evidence 
that they are endowed with senses by which they see, appre- 
ciate, and love, thus presenting something more than intangible 
spirit. 

They are, indeed, unseen to mortal eyes now ; their visitations 
are silent and unobserved by those that are visited ; but in like 
manner is it with saints whose sympathy we would fain believe 
is not wholly cut off, though they are removed from sight, and 
who yet are to have a body, though glorified. 



446 



ANGELIC ORGANISM. 



If they have material bodies, with their attendant sensa- 
tions, these doubtless are of finer mould and more exquisite 
sensibility than any. It argues not against their existence 
that they are invisible, that our present organs of vision fail 
to discover them, though they touch us with their wings in 
their soothing embraces. 

" In every instance in which angels have been sent on em- 
bassies to mankind," says one, "they have displayed sensible 
qualities. They exhibited a definite form, somewhat analogous 
to that of man, and color and splendor which were perceptible 
by the organs of vision ; they emitted sounds which struck the 
organ of hearing ; they produced the harmonies of music, and 
sung sublime sentiments, which were uttered in articulate 
words that were distinctly heard and recognized hy the persons 
to whom they were sent, and they exerted their power over 
the sense of feeling ; for the angel who appeared to Peter in 
the prison ' smote him on the side, and raised him up.' In 
these instances, angels manifested themselves to men through 
the medium of three principal senses, by which we recognize 
the properties of material objects ; and why, then, should we 
consider them as purely immaterial substances, having no con- 
nection with the visible universe ? We have no knowledge of 
angels but from revelation ; and all the descriptions it gives 
of these beings lead us to conclude that they are connected 
with the world of matter as well as with the world of mind, 
and are furnished with organized vehicles, composed of some 
refined material substance, suitable to their nature and employ- 
ments." 

When Christ shall appear the second time, we are told that 
he is to come, not only in the glory of his Father, but also "in 
the glory of his holy angels," who will minister to him, and 
increase the splendor of his appearance. Now, the glory 
which the angels will display must be visible, and, consequent- 
ly, material; otherwise, it could not be contemplated by the 
assembled inhabitants of our world, and could present no lustre 



ANGELS VISITING THE EARTH. 447 

or glory to their view. An assemblage of purely spiritual 
beings, however numerous or exalted in point of intelligence, 
would be a mere inanity in a scene intended to exhibit a vis- 
ible display of the " divine supremacy and grandeur." 

The fact of material aids is not an essential consideration ; 
but if we admit it, we must acknowledge something incom- 
parably superior to all known ideals, as, of necessity, they far 
transcend all present power of comprehension. Who can 
tell what beauty appears in a shining angel, one whose coun- 
tenance is radiant with celestial glory, long beheld, until it is 
stamped upon the glowing features in lines of indescribable 
loveliness ? 

Such appeared to Mary, when she 

" To the Saviour's tomb 

Hasted at the early dawn," 

to muse where her heart's affections lingered, around the 
rocky sepulchre of the garden, which held, as she supposed, 
the object of her love — her adorable Lord. 

With snow-white raiment, and countenance like lightning, 
they sat on the sepulchral stone, awaiting the coming of the 
faithful women to whom the joyous revelation was to be made 
known in tones of sweet assurance. "He is not here; he is 
risen : come, see the place where the Lord lay." They ap- 
peared in the freshness and beauty of youth, although for 
thousands of years they had been in the active service of the 
Most High. In their august presence the earthly-minded 
keepers fell with trembling to the ground, scarcely able to sus- 
tain life in the midst of the overwhelming splendor they 
brought to shine around the sacred and memorable spot where 
they were gathered. Surely angels must have regarded that 
place with the deepest interest — that place where the occu- 
pant of the eternal throne had been laid, a seeming victim 
to the power of death, and where he had risen in triumph over 
it, and gone his way, to establish his identity among his 
fearful and mourning disciples, that were scattered in the 



448 



MINISTRATIONS OF ANGELS. 



gloom-enveloped city that had witnessed his spotless example 
and teaching — his unmerited and ignominious death. If they 
are permitted to come to this world, we should naturally sup- 
pose their interest would cluster around a point of earth so 
rich in association as this, and that utmost beauty of expres- 
sion would centre in their divinely-radiated countenances as 
they looked at the grave that had no power to retain its trust, 
and consequently was the attraction of faith and hope with 
millions yet to come. 

They rolled away the stone with ease, as we may conclude, 
since they are said to "excel in strength," to be "strong" and 
"mighty," never wanting in disposition or ability to perform 
loving service for Him who so richly deserves it. As evidence 
of this, they are said, in Revelation, to hold "the four winds 
of heaven," and are represented as executing the judgments of 
God upon the proud despisers of his government, as " throw- 
ing mountains into the sea," and binding the prince of dark- 
ness with chains, and "casting him into the bottomless pit." 

They have been prime agents in God's universal plan, and 
have been fitted by him with a nature and capacity equal to the 
magnitude and interest of the work to which they have been 
called, and in which they have been engaged, in all his vast 
empire. The range of their activity is not circumscribed to 
our world alone, probably, but to farthest extent of creating 
skill they may be commissioned on errand of holiest love — on 
embassies of peace and highest good will. " Such is angelic 
readiness to fulfil Heaven's behests," says one, "that were two 
sent to earth, one to bear supreme rule in a proud metropolis, 
and the other to sweep its streets, there would be no pride in 
the former, no envy in the latter, but willing activity in both." 
They are subject unto God, and rejoice in the subjection, hav- 
ing no independent and rival interests to work out and sustain, 
but deriving their life and returning it to the one Giver of all, 
as they hold offices under the divine government. The duties 
of office are discharged with wonderful alertness, as they are 



ANGELIC APPEARANCES. 



449 



endowed in such a manner as to allow amazing rapidity of 
motion in the conveyance of themselves from one portion of the 
world, or one region of God's empire, to another. 

It was while Daniel was earnestly confessing Israel's sin, and 
making supplication for the people, that "one with the simili- 
tude of the sons of men" touched his lips, and revealed new 
glory. Ere he had finished his request, Gabriel had arrived 
from the heavenly world to speak peace and comfort to the 
burdened heart of the devout suppliant. Even Daniel, in sym- 
pathy with God, was dumb for a season at the glorious vision 
which appeared unto him at the hour of his solitary devotion, 
— at the visitation of the angel. 

In power, beauty, and perfection he so much surpassed all 
that he had ever seen among men at the Babylonian court, 
that his address was as unto his "Lord," whom he conceived 
to have met him because of the manifest glory about him, as 
well as by the cheering hopes inspired in his breast. 

" O man, greatly beloved," said the holy visitant, in familiar 
communing, by which he evinced an acquaintance with relations 
subsisting between himself and his God, or, perchance, with 
others in the world, hereby affording an intimation of the minute 
and varied knowledge of those celestial beings, which extends, 
it seems, to every particular that concerns the welfare of men. 

At another period he wings his way to a humble maid of a 
Galilean cottage, and in affectionate condescension tendered 
his gracious salutation, "Hail, thou that art highly favored ! " 
And, as he beheld the risings of agitation in the bosom of his 
youthful subject, he inspires her confidence and kindles her 
faith in the heavenly intelligence by words of sweet assurance : 
" Fear not, Mary ! " " the power of the Highest shall over- 
shadow thee ! " 

What a meeting was that! Gabriel, who "stands in the 
presence of God," and a poor maiden, of an obscure and de- 
spised village. Were men of the world to plan a reception for 
so lofty a personage, they would pass by the indigent and the 
29 



450 



ANGELS FITTED TO BE MESSENGERS. 



lowly, and seek only proud position in circles of wealth and 
honor. Not so the infinite and condescending God. He sends 
his most honored ones to the poorest and the lowliest who wait 
on him, or whom he would win to his service in a life-engage- 
ment ; and there is more joy in one such heart to whom God 
sends an angel, than could be secured by the most obsequious 
attention of any earthly monarch. Next to direct revelation 
of God himself, in holy communion, are these angelic visita- 
tions, for they convey the sure intimations of the divine will. 
They impart simply and only that which has been intrusted to 
them by Him who has all the secrets of knowledge and action 
in his own keeping. The messages which they deliver are but 
a recapitulation of those which proceed from the mouth of the 
Lord. As a faithful and trusty servant is careful to deliver 
according to the direction of his master, in like manner do 
angels prove true to the confidence reposed in them, since they 
are, by perfect constitution, altogether in unison with the divine 
counsels, and deeply interested in the success of all things 
which in any way redound to the honor of Jesus. Their feel- 
ings move in entire harmony with the whole will of God, and 
their knowledge is derived from him, the minuteness and per- 
fection of which are exemplified in the fall of the Assyrian 
army, one hundred and eighty-five thousand of which were 
slain in a single night through the agency of one of these 
beings ; in their recognition of the first-born in the land of 
Egypt, in the distinction made between the chosen and the 
doomed, and the means employed to insure the destruction of 
the latter. 

Thus it seems these holy beings are not ignorant of things 
in this world ; that they are acquainted with the springs of life, 
and the means of perpetuating or restraining them. They have 
been taught of God for ages, and are, therefore, in possession 
of wonderful knowledge and vast comprehension of intellect, 
which fit them most emphatically for extensive achievement. 
Everything in their history combines to produce a high degree 



VISIT OF ANGELS TO ABRAHAM. 451 



of excellence and power. " They dwell in a world where truth 
reigns triumphant, where moral evil has never entered, where 
substantial knowledge irradiates the mind of every inhabitant, 
where the mysteries which involve the character of the Eternal 
are continually disclosing, and where the plans of his provi- 
dence are rapidly unfolded. They have ranged through the 
innumerable regions of the heavens, and visited distant worlds, 
for thousands of years ; they have beheld the unceasing variety 
and the endless multitude of the works of creation and provi- 
dence, and are, doubtless, enabled to compare systems of worlds 
with more accuracy and comprehension than we are capable of 
surveying villages, cities, and provinces. Thus their original 
powers and capacities have been expanded, and their vigor and 
activity strengthened ; and, consequently, in the progress of 
duration, their acquisitions of wisdom and knowledge must 
indefinitely surpass everything that the mind of man can 
conceive." 

From the fulness of these intellectual treasures they will, in 
all probability, be constantly drawing and imparting for the 
happiness and edification of the saints. They have witnessed, 
and may have had part in, the wonderful epochs of the divine 
administration, which have been distinguished for great and 
beneficent deeds ; their service has brought them into portions 
of God's realm which no mind that has ever passed from earth 
has ever comprehended ; with wide observation and holy intui- 
tion they have studied causes and effects in such manner as to 
gain varied stores of rich information, such as the heavenly 
inhabitants delight to treasure up. 

Far back in patriarchal times we see them engaged in their 
blessed work. Under a dispensation less favored than ours, 
they acted a conspicuous part in the revelation of God's pur- 
poses to his ancient people. Abraham, reposing in the shadow 
of his tent in Mamre's plain, beholds them coming, and, struck 
with their strange majesty of bearing, and heavenly expres- 
sion of countenance and demeanor, he bows humbly and rev- 



452 



VISIT OF ANGELS TO LOT. 



erently before them, entreating them to turn aside, become his 
guests, and submit to the hospitalities of earth. 

With what grace did the messengers from the celestial world 
comply, waiting in the cool shade, while within the tent was the 
preparation for their refreshment ! " So do, as thou hast said," 
say they, but it was for none of these things they came down 
to the dwelling-place of the faithful, for the " fine meal " and the 
" tender calf" were not to be compared with the choice and nu- 
tritious food awarded them at their own royal table in the skies. 
Their refined and spiritual natures needed not the coarse nutri- 
ment of earth. The Lord had a secret to reveal, a promise 
to make — one that involved much, very much ; and it was to 
make this known that these celestial ambassadors trod the plains 
of Mamre toward Abraham's tent, and finally halted to rest and 
to eat beneath the tree at his door. It was a fit errand for the 
angels to do, - — honorable work for the loftiest in their ranks, 
thus to show the purposes of the Most High to the children of 
men, — to bring joy and consolation into their waiting hearts. 
Evidently they take a deep interest in the welfare and happi- 
ness of mankind. The righteous Lot, preserving his virtues in 
the midst of a wicked and perverse people, becomes the object 
of their regard, and the subject of merciful interposition in the 
time of danger, when an angry cloud brooded over the city 
where he dwelt. 

The isolated Christian is remembered and watched wherever 
he be. The solitary man of Sodom who kept the faith must 
be rescued from the impending destruction, and his household, 
of all these, must experience salvation in some way or other ; 
and that way must surely be provided by the Power above, 
since the thoughtless and wicked crowd that surrounded him 
were absorbed in the gross things of the sensual world, and 
wholly occupied with efforts to secure their continuance. 

Behold the angels nearing the gate of the doomed city at 
eventide, at which sat the man of devout spirit, mourning, it 
may be, at the infidelity of the people of the land, whose merited 



AN ANGEL VISITS MANOAH. 



453 



reward seemed the judgment of heaven, unmeasured and un- 
mitigated. 

Perchance, at the hour of twilight, he had gone forth to muse 
alone upon the prevailing impiety, and was then silently breath- 
ing his petitions into the ear of God for relief in the hour of 
extremity, when the heavenly visitants came in sight with their 
welcome instructions. He rose to meet them, with becoming 
salutation, and besought the honor of giving them a place under 
his roof ; and what a contrast between the pure-minded guests 
of the house of Lot, and the impious throng that encompassed 
the place, from which they found it necessary to shield and de- 
fend him ! Their power is manifest in that they smote the ill- 
meaning people at the door, both " small and great," with blind- 
ness, thus putting an end to their dark designs, and quieting 
the soul of Lot, whose veneration for the unearthly strangers 
had called forth earnest rebukes from his lips in their behalf 
and the morning light witnessed their interest too, for they 
hasted to take the family by the hand and urge their flight from 
the storm-enveloped city, nor left them until they saw them well 
on toward a mountain of safety. 

It was an " angel of the Lord " that winged his way to the 
mount of Moriah, at the solemn hour of sacrifice, to stay the 
uplifted hand that was ready to fall upon the beloved Isaac of 
promise, and that confirmed to the submissive and faithful father 
the fulfilment of the intimation that told of peculiar and won- 
drous blessing to descend upon him and his posterity. 

It was likewise the Lord's angel that appeared unto the 
family of Manoah to foretell the rising of a day of unexpected 
joy upon their little circle, and to answer their questions, save 
such as, whence he came and what might be his name. 
There he was silent — that was a secret. Michael and Gabriel 
are the only angel names we know, and we may profit by that 
which the visitor of the two of Zorah spoke — "Why askest 
thou thus after my name, seeing it is a secret? " 

Honor was the consideration advanced, but the angel, in 



454 ANGELS CELEBRATING CHRIST'S ADVENT. 



his humility, would have it understood that sacrifice and offer- 
ing: belong unto God, and are not due to a subordinate being 
like himself. Of kindred spirit was the one before whom John 
would have bowed down in holy reverence, because of the 
glorious vision which he had showed him of the heavenly Jeru- 
salem and its attendant glories. " See thou do it not," said he, 
" for I am they fellow-servant," — " worship God." 

Angels are humble. This prime virtue is exercised by them 
in its perfection. They " veil their faces " before the throne of 
glory upon which sits the pure and spotless Jesus, and cast 
their crowns with adoration, and yet with humility, at his feet, 
joining with full chorus in the song, " Thou art worthy." 

Beautiful are their ministrations wherever we meet them. In 
very many instances in the Old Testament are we made acquaint- 
ed with their manner of working. They drew near the famish- 
ing Elijah to sustain him ; they rebuked the Israelites at Bo- 
chim, so touching their hearts that "they lifted up their voices 
and wept " because of their sin ; they sent Gideon to their deliv- 
erance, and spoke words of comfort to those that were fearful 
and desponding. 

No sooner does the New Testament open, as the "day- 
spring from on high," than forthwith angels appear to inaugu- 
rate the auspicious era, and herald the coming of Him who was 
henceforth to be the Prince, the King, the Everlasting Monarch 
among men. 

" On earth peace, good-will toward men ! " shouted the angelic 
host, for there had been born in the city of David a Saviour — 
Christ the Lord. It is not strange if there was a rustling among 
the wings of cherubim and seraphim as the tidings became known 
that the " healing beams" of the " Sun of Righteousness " were to 
be seen and felt in all the earth, in every part of the darkened 
and sin-cursed land, nor that they hasted to celebrate the advent 
of Christ. Heaven was their home, their peculiar residence. 
It had been that of Jesus; and with what interest they fol- 
lowed him to his low estate on his wonderful mission ! Could 



ANGELS AS DELIVERERS. 



455 



not angels be sacrificed to save a revolted world ? Could not 
some other way be provided to secure the necessary atonement? 
No ! neither angel nor archangel was sufficient for the mighty 
purpose. Jesus himself, the pure and Immaculate One, must 
submit to humiliation, to a life of obscurity and a death of 
ignominy to secure the result, and angels would be honored in 
the privilege of attending him and guarding him on the way. 
They were with him in his temptation and his agony, and stood 
ready, in "legions," to fly to his aid in whichever or whatever 
way he required it ; and they stood by the gazing disciples, in 
"white apparel," at the time of the ascension, to assure them of 
final and blessed reunion with the Lord they loved in the place 
whither he had gone, when they, too, should have accomplished 
their mission in the world of probation ; when they should have 
reached the end of the " strait way," that Jesus himself had 
paved with glory, and illuminated from the eternal and un- 
created Source of all light. What strange joy must have filled 
and animated the shining hosts above, as the cry went forth 
from the illustrious Sufferer, " It is finished " ! What emotion 
was kindled in all the blessed ranks when he re-appeared on the 
throne in all his glory, having completed the stupendous work 
of man's redemption ! Heaven was glad. Angels and men 
rejoiced together over the mighty scheme. Although the 
" bright and morning Star " had disappeared from the horizon 
below, there were still lights to be trimmed and kept burning, 
and for this angels continued to descend and ascend on divinely- 
constructed ladders, to aid in a work that had assumed new 
interest, since the Incarnate One had been willing to do so much 
for its advancement. 

Cornelius, Peter, and Paul severally experienced the visitation 
of angels, and rejoiced in the deliverance they wrought for them 
in times of extremity, when, humanly speaking, there seemed 
no possible way of escape. Iron gates, bolts and bars, were no 
obstacles in their way. They needed no keys to unlock the 
dungeons of confinement save the word the Almighty had bid 



456 



ANGELS AS GUIDES. 



them speak. Quick coming from the world of light they re- 
tained their own celestial radiance, and filled the gloomy prison- 
rooms with unwonted splendor, assuring the believing soul that 
heaven was moved with compassion for their woes, since earth 
could boast nothing like unto what they saw. Forth into the 
street, by and beyond the anxious keepers, through self-opening 
doors, on to the place of prayer, the captives were led ; and as they 
were near the assembled praying company the angel departed, 
as if safety was secured in the atmosphere of prayer ; as if there 
was no doubt that the right thing would be done if they 
remained in communion with Him who had passed into the 
skies ; as if the highest interests of mankind would certainly be 
cared for effectually while the disciples mutually retained their 
attachment to their common Lord. Angels, it seems, conduct 
toward the place of prayer, but leave their charge in the shadow 
of the mercy-seat, as if they were conscious of treading on too 
holy ground, as if they would resign them to the better care 
which Jesus can exercise over them. 

The praying circle, who were met " with one accord" at the 
room to which Peter directed his steps when he was brought 
from the prison, were in a condition to realize more of actual 
good, more of that which the necessities of their souls de- 
manded, than if they had been literally surrounded with a con- 
voy of angels, and limited to their ability, though they had 
power to break chains, and strike their foes with blindness. 

Angels could not forgive sin, — the accursed thing that 
erected the cross of Christ, — they could not free the spirit from 
its dominion ; and this was the aspiration of the early Christians, 
as it will be that of Christians in all time. It bespoke the ten- 
derest care in the ascended J esus that he gave his followers into 
the charge of angels, that he sent them to guide and defend 
when his friends were sorely harassed and tried by the enemies 
of religion — the persecutors of Christians and Christianity. 
It spoke the infinite love of his compassionate heart when he 
sent these tender and faithful guardians to direct the steps of 



ANGELIC MINISTRATIONS NOW. 



457 



his chosen, so that they might be kept in the way, finish their 
course with joy, and leave their names on record as those who 
obtained a victory through the power of that grace which flowed 
out from Calvary's fountain. 

There are some things that flourished and died in the bosom 
of the primitive church. There are agencies that have ceased, 
— but not such, we believe, is angelic ministration. 

It was not alone to the patriarchs and prophets, to the favored 
ones in the days of Christ and apostolic times, that their com- 
mission extends. The humblest Christian, in every age, though 
he be poor and unlettered, unfamiliar with science or luxury, 
has yet the unspeakable pleasure of furnishing an apartment to 
which he may invite the wealthiest residents of the heavenly 
city, with the sure knowledge of their cordial acceptance. He 
may entertain them, too, in a manner that will excite their 
deepest interest, their warmest approbation, in such a way that 
they will go back to heaven with an eloquent description upon 
their lips which will send a new thrill of joy through all the 
circles of the very select society there. 

To such a high privilege as this is the Christian called. ft Are 
they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto them 
who shall be heirs of salvation?" asked the apostle, whose 
clearness of spiritual apprehension beheld an " innumerable 
company " encircling the redeemed host whom J esus had gath- 
ered. He saw " a great cloud of witnesses," where others could 
not discover a single indication of a living presence. The angel 
at the sepulchre was not the same to the unregenerate keepers 
as to the loving and faith-inspired women. They love to visit 
the same places that Jesus loves to frequent — "the humble and 
contrite heart ; " they love to carry back the record of faithful 
and devoted service ; of battles won and victories gained by 
valiant soldiers of the cross. They love to tell above the 
resolutions of repentant souls ; to celebrate the birthdays of 
immortal spirits into the kingdom of God's dear Son. 

They love to take the gift of consecration, and bear it to the 



458 JOT OF ANGELS OVER PENITENT SINNERS. 



Lord of heaven and earth. " The attendant angel is just about 
to leave the threshold and ascend to heaven," said Mr. White- 
field, in the impassioned earnestness of his preaching, "and 
shall he ascend and not bear with him the news of one sinner, 
among all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of his ways? 
Stop, Gabriel ! stop, Gabriel ! " was his almost involuntary 
exclamation, as with gushing tears he lifted his hands and eyes 
to heaven. " Stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet 
carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God." 

That " there is joy among the angels of heaven over one 
sinner that repenteth," we know, for the Bible assures us of 
it. From this, we conclude, they bend down with peculiar 
pleasure over those assemblies moved by the Spirit's influences, 
until the proud are subdued, the hard-hearted softened, and 
the penitent tear and expressive sigh tell of heart-yearnings to 
find a forgiving God. At such times Faith almost hears the 
rustling of their wings, as they linger to catch the sacred 
tidings, and to breathe inspiration into waiting hearts that 
would fain become versed in heavenly things. The sacred 
lore of the skies is imparted to mankind before they reach the 
heavenly hills — before they lay aside mortality, and become 
all eye and ear in the acquisition of knowledge respecting re- 
demption and its manifold and glorious results. 

There is a relation of the deepest interest between Christians 
and angels. "The particular ways and instances of their 
special efforts as our allies we know not, nor do we need to 
know. It is enough for us to be assured that an immense 
host of these efficient guardians is in attendance upon the 
heirs of salvation." 

Our journey from the cradle to the grave may be performed 
with angel guides, that will save us from many a fruitless 
task, if we will ; that will restrain us from entering the paths 
which allure and promise much, but yet end in destruction and 
death ; that will keep us from the gloomy alleys of unbelief, 
the broad avenues of sin, and the dark caverns of despair. 



ANGELS WITH TEE DYING CHRISTIAN. 459 



Verily, " the angel of the Lord encampeth round about them 
that fear him, and delivereth them." Nothing is of slight 
moment to them that the Great Redeemer regards, nothing so 
important as his honor, and this is secured by the perfection 
and final salvation of immortal souls. As one after another of 
these is brought safe home to glory, through manifold tempta- 
tions and trials, through numberless conflicts and struggles, 
pure, sanctified by the efficacious blood of Jesus, surely it must 

" Wake songs of holy ecstasy " 

among these holy beings — these loving and faithful guardians, 
whose influence has done so much in perfecting the result. 

They forsake not in death, in the last trying hour — rather 
it is their hour of triumph, when, amid the agonies of dissolv- 
ing nature, the spirit that is stayed on God is calm and joyful 
in the prospect of being conveyed across the dark stream to 
the immortal isle. "Now, angels, do your work," said a 
faithful man of God, who stood on the boundary line between 
the seen and unseen, ready for angelic attendance to his pre- 
pared mansion in the skies. 

" What glory ! the angels are waiting for me ! " said another, 
whose spirit was plumed for his hallowed flight to the upper 
world. This is but the experience of many Christians. 
They have seen celestial visitants in the chamber of sickness ; 
and the bed of death has been changed into the couch of ease, 
because of the loving embraces that have been given ; because 
of the glory that has come down as an earnest, a foretaste, of 
that superior bliss which will be theirs when the angels have 
led the way to the place where the heavenly banquet is spread, 
and shown them their seat in the midst of those that are ac- 
counted worthy to sit down to "the marriage supper of the 
Lamb." 

They are unseen ministers all along the pathway of life 
until the last — until earth and time begin to recede, and the 
loves and friendships of this world begin to fail and fade away, 



460 



ANGELS ESCORT TO HEAVEN. 



then they become visible guards, that the soul may see how 
many more are its spiritual friends, and how much more 
trustful in times of emergency they are than the strongest and 
most loving of kinsmen according to the flesh. They introduce 
the dying Christian to heavenly joys. 

Lazarus was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom — 
into the Paradise of God. What a contrast ! From being a 
poor, helpless beggar at the gate of a rich man, without the 
common comforts of life, or the priceless boon of sympathy in 
his distress, with not so much as a friend to mitigate his suffer- 
ing by kindly effort to soothe, — from all this, to be trans- 
ported into the midst of the most loving and sympathizing 
circle ever known, to find a cordial welcome into the most 
refined society that could be imagined, to wear a robe of the 
most costly fabric that was ever purchased, and to bask in the 
sunshine and smiles of a loving Father forever, — to all this 
the angels conducted Lazarus, and to this will they introduce 
every saint at last. 

In the panorama of Pilgrim's Progress, and at the closing 
scene, where Mercy is kneeling at the shore of the swiftly flow- 
ing Jordan, a band of shining ones crowd around to escort her 
safely over into the Promised Land — into the Golden City, 
whose gleaming battlements are discernible at a little distance. 
The joy that is visible in their countenances is reflected upon 
hers, and the mutual recognition seems to inspire the invita- 
tion, " Come quickly," and take me to my rest, to those that 
I love, to Jesus whom I adore. 

Again, we have seen the picture of a bright-winged creature, 
stooping down to earth, holding with one hand the brittle 
thread of life, and with the other pointing to the towers of the 
Celestial City, that appear through an opening of the clouds, 
while the serene and placid expression of countenance seems 
to resolve itself into words something like this : " Look con- 
tinually yonder in all thy earthly course, for he will be kept 
in perfect peace whose mind is thus stayed." 



ANGELS CO-WOBKEBS WITH CHBIST. 461 



These are not altogether the speculations of fancy — - 
something that exists only in the doubtful regions of the 
ideal. They have their counterpart in real life in God's world. 
We are constantly directed toward the Holy City. Angels 
guard our steps by day, and watch by our pillows at night, 
until we lie down upon the earth-made pillow to sleep our 
last sleep, and then they take the spirit to its God and its 
home. 

They also are to be employed at the end of the world, 
when earth's assembled millions shall be gathered around the 
great white throne to know the settlement of their final des- 
tiny. Angels are to be the reapers in that great harvest, to 
be participants in that solemn work of saving the wheat and 
burning the chaff. They are God's workmen, efficient every- 
where, at all times, and upon all occasions. 

They are willing cooperators with Jesus in the great work 
of salvation. They have never sinned, and therefore know 
nothing of redemption in its experimental application ; but 
they watch with deepest interest those for whom Jesus died, 
and rejoice in every new accession to the Redeemer's kingdom. 

Is there no comfort in this, O Christian? It is true, none 
can fill the place of J esus : he is the " chiefest among ten 
thousand ; " he only can speak peace to the stricken, tempest- 
tossed ones on the stormy sea of life ; he gives himself first, 
but in the plenitude of his mercy, and the tenderness of his 
love he sends his angels, with their sweet promptings and gentle 
influences, to be the soul-companions of his friends while they 
remain exiles from their Father's house and their native land. 

Who would not cherish a thought so delightful as this — the 
guardianship of angels ! And if we be thus defended and aided, 
will there be no desire, when landing on the immortal shores, to 
know personally those who have thus guarded us ? Will they not 
recognize those whom they have brought through dangers and 
struggles, and welcome them to the place where there is no 
more sin or care, no more occasion for conflict or watchings ? 



462 



ANGELIC MINISTRY REAL. 



The happy child sings, " I want to be an angel," and the 
young mind is full of bright visions of the spirit-world ; and 
shall the faith-inspired Christian, of maturer years, feel no quick- 
ening of desire under the influence of the " ministering spirits " 
who would lift him up into the blest abode where they dwell ? 

There is such a thing as having the soul borne to heaven on 
the wings of faith and strong desire before it leaves its tene- 
ment of mortality. There is such a thing as imbibing the 
spirit of heaven below ; of growing into the likeness of Christ, 
and enjoying the fellowship of the saints ; and the train of influ- 
ences set in operation by the divine hand is to secure this end. 

For this purpose angels receive their commission and go forth 
on their loving errands. Say not because they are unseen they 
are unreal. Religion does her work silently but effectually. 
" The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou nearest the sound 
thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth." 

We know not the full extent of the power of silent, and, to 
us, unconscious, ministration to which we are subject in our spir- 
itual life, nor how much intercourse spirit may have with spirit 
in the earthly and the heavenly. Our gross senses preclude ap- 
prehension ; but if our eyes were opened, as they might be, and 
as one day they will be, we should see that " they who are for 
us are more than they who are against us." 

We are warranted in the belief that angels do minister unto 
the children of God, and it is a precious thought. 

"Yes ! — may ye not, unseen, round us hover, 

With gentle promptings and sweet influence yet, 

Though the fresh glory of those days be over, 
When, midst the palm-trees, man your footsteps met? 

Are ye not near when faith and hope rise high ? 

When love, by strength, o'ermasters agony? 

" Are ye not near when sorrow, unrepining, 

Yields up life's treasures unto Him who gave ? 

When martyrs, all things for his sake resigning, 
Lead on the march of death, serenely brave? 

Dreams ! — but a deeper thought our souls may fill, — 

One, One is near — a spirit holier still ! " 



COMPLEX NATURE OF MAN. 



463 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

RECOGNITION OF FEIENDS IN HEAVEN. 

Complex Nature of Man. — Friendship a divine Institution. — Views of 
the Ancients concerning heavenly Recognition. — Modern Christians. — 
Scripture Facts. — Christian Anticipation. — New and constant Acqui- 
sition of Good. 

" I count the hope no day-dream of the mind, 
No vision fair of transitory hue, 
The souls of those, whom once on earth we knew, 
And loved, and walked with in communion kind, 
Departed hence, again in heaven to find. 
Such hope to Nature's sympathies is true ; 
And such, we deem, the holy word to view 
Unfolds : an antidote for grief designed." — Bishop Mant. 

Like to "a harp of thousand strings" is the being of man. 
The varied chords of the human soul, and the numberless 
strings twined about the heart, are so tuned and arranged as to 
emit sounds of sweetest melody, producing vibrations that do not 
die out in reaching the utmost boundary of the shores of time, 
but extend down eternal ages, increasing in power and effect, 
and in sweetness too, unless they are so misused as to become 
hopelessly out of tune, and remain capable only of discord. 

The Almighty never tuned any other instrument at all com- 
parable with the human soul. Let a breath of heaven sweep 
over it, and it awakens songs that the angels listen to with rap- 
turous delight, — that even Jesus loves to hear, — he, into whose 
ear comes the harmony of all worlds and systems of worlds. 

Give it the inspiration of love, and it is heard warbling 
strains of the richest music, that melt the hardest nature, and 
awaken tender sensibilities long dormant. Touch it lightly, 



464 



COMPLEX NATURE OF MAN. 



and notes of sympathy are evoked that soothe, as if by magic, 
the most anxious and depressed ; that are wafted, it may be, 
across pathless seas, to be caught by the loving and appreciating 
on the far-off shores of a distant continent or country, and ap- 
propriated to purposes of comfort and consolation, to the light- 
ening of burdens that otherwise might seem heavy. 

Put down thy lips, and blow softly upon the supple strings, 
and a low, sweet cadence mingles in pleasing harmony with 
the duller passages of sober and practical life, making that 
which before seemed like the uneven chantings of unharmonious 
verse as the measured stanza of divinest poetry, whose flowing 
numbers beget a kindred symphony. Let the action be rude 
and unskilful, and it awakes echoes that are harsh and piercing. 
Whatever be the air required, lively or plaintive, whatever be 
the time, quick or slow, the soul-organ is equal to its pro- 
duction. 

It is finely constructed, and has numerous keys. One of 
these is remembrance. Touch it, and like an electric power 
it startles and sets more in motion the hitherto sluggish 
thought and feeling. There is an irrepressible demand of the 
heart for the music of loving voices, — and the recollection 
of those who produced the soul-stirring melodies comprises no 
small portion of life's joy. 

Other things may fade away, may be as though they had 
never been ; but the clear notes that sound so sweetly in the 
glad morning, ring in the chambers of memory long after 
the shadows of evening begin to close in over the weary pil- 
grim, and the eye kindles with unwonted fire, while something 
almost like youthful animation is manifest in the furrowed 
countenance. 

The memory of early friends is always cherished and re- 
tained. The impression they make upon the heart is never 
wholly erased. The outlines, at least, remain as the basis 
of recognition in after years. Many things may come in 
to obscure its brightness, but it is not wholly lost. It was 



FBIEND S HIP. 



465 



intended to be so. God made provision for these daguerreo- 
types ; he prepared the inner tablet for the express purpose of 
receiving and retaining these impressions. He placed love in 
the centre of being, and drew us toward it ; so that the affini- 
ties which are the result of its attraction are as necessary a law 
as that which draws together the steel and the magnet in 
another department. God meant the name of friend to be 
dear, and faithful and tried ones are considered the choicest 
gifts of time. He meant, that around the home circle should 
cluster the dearest, sweetest sympathies ; that the chain which 
girds it should be of the strongest links. In all this he mani- 
fested the tenclerest regard for the weal of mankind. He gave 
a fertile nature, and then provided fertile resources, and said, 
w Go, cherish and improve them." Would he have done all 
this for a span of time ? Would he have implanted so strong 
a principle, to destroy it forever when it has reached its height 
in this world ? 

The yearnings of the loving nature might indeed have been 
satisfied entirely in the absorbing love of God himself, and the 
fibres of being which reach out for something around which to 
cling may find ample support in the spreading branches that 
reach down over the jasper walls of the Holy City — this 
should be the basis of all things, but we are made for some- 
thing more. The loving voices and smiles that greet us all 
along the pathway of life are as so many sunbeams that the 
tender Father above has caused to shine around us for our 
peculiar gratification. He has made them to gild the dark 
seasons of adversity, and light them with cheering radiance ; 
to give gladness, and disperse despondency and gloom when- 
ever their raven wings overshadow the soul. If the voice be 
hushed, and the smile play no more upon the cheek of death, 
then Memory begins her work of consolation ; chiselling the 
features in substance more enduring than marble, and dwelling 
upon and preserving every look, tone, and word with careful 
exactness, thus creating a likeness that in after years is recog- 
30 



466 



HEAVENLY RECOGNITION. 



nized as the one that was once a reality to us. " Have you a 
picture of your child ? " was asked of a lady who had buried 
her only one. "None, except in my heart," was the tearful 
reply, "but that is fixed and fadeless. I can always recog- 
nize it." 

So inwrought is this principle into the constitution of being, 
that it cannot die out unless the soul dies. The disembodied 
spirit, it seems, must remember and recognize those it loved, 
and that which engaged and enlisted its attention and interest 
in the days of its fleshly experience. It is a part of itself. 
The discipline made it what it is, and to a certain extent fitted 
it for its place in glory — increased its capacity for heavenly 
friendship and employments. 

Shall we know each other in a future life, is a question that 
the heart has asked for long ages. It went side by side with 
the question of immortality in the earliest periods of inquiry. 
In the same breath that one was asked was the other submitted. 

If death was only to be the introduction to a new life, the 
continuation of an endless chain of being, then how much 
would the spirit take along, how much retain of its earth 
connections ? The question has never ceased in interest ; still 
we hear the inquiry, — 

lt Shall there be bright ones in that better land, 
Who still the old familiar faces wear, 
Amid the beauty of that spirit-land, 

For us the loveliest and the brightest there ? 
" When the freed spirits ' face to face ' shall see, 
Clothed in new beauty, gloriously fair, 
Shall it not then a crowning rapture be, 
Each other's bliss, each other's smiles to share? " 

God sometimes sends little, loving creatures here for a brief 
while ; and when we have kept them in our bosoms until the 
tendrils of affection have taken firm hold, he comes and tears 
them away ; and while we look up tearfully submissive, the 
rising suggestion of the heart is, Shall we meet again to love 
and Jmow ? 



OPINION OF SOCRATES. 



467 



We spend a great part of life in the mutual intercourse of 
confiding friendship, and almost come to believe, it may be, 
that we shall first sleep, and thus be saved the lingering tor- 
tures of bereavement ; but suddenly the support is taken, the 
joy removed, and again we ask, Shall it be ours to know a 
glad reunion in the time to come, when we go where the loved 
has gone? 

It is true, the light of Christianity beams for us, shedding 
peace upon the spirit groping on its way, and letting fall the 
rays of certainty ; but the question was not so satisfactorily 
answered for the ancients. They asked, as we do, Shall we 
meet to know? But echo mockingly returned the same words, 
and their souls were not satisfied. Reason came with her 
lamp, and sought to illumine the dark recess for them ; but 
the flame was glimmering and uncertain, and the abyss needed 
something more than fitful flashes to light it. " Are there not 
numbers who, upon the death of their lovers, wives, and chil- 
dren," says the Athenian philosopher, " have chosen, of their 
own accord, to enter Hades, induced by the hope of seeing 
there those they loved, and of living with them again? " The 
great truths of immortality and friendly recognition seemed to 
cast their shadows upon the spirit of this same man, as he 
stood with the fatal hemlock in his hand, which was to open 
the gates of futurity for him, and thus discoursed : " If it be 
true, that death conveys us to those regions which are inhab- 
ited by the spirits of the departed, will it not be a matter of 
unspeakable joy to escape from the hands of mere nominal 
judges, and appear before those who truly deserve the name, 
such as Minos and Rhadamanthus, and to associate with all 
who have maintained the cause of truth and rectitude ? Is it 
nothing to converse with Orpheus, and Homer, and Hesiod? 
Believe me, I would cheerfully suffer many a death on condi- 
tion of realizing such a privilege. With what pleasure could 
I leave the world to hold communion with Palamedes, Ajax, 
and others, who, like me, have had an unjust sentence pro- 
nounced against them ! " 



468 VIEWS OF POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS. 



Similar ideas were entertained by another, that drew forth 
the confession, "I ardently wish to visit those celebrated wor- 
thies, of whose honorable conduct I have heard and read much, 
or whose virtues I have myself commemorated in some of my 
writings. To this glorious assembly I am speedily advancing ; 
and I would not be turned back in my journey, even on the 
assured condition that my youth, like that of Pelias, should 
be restored again." The classic poets cherished the same aspi- 
ration. It was a deep-seated want of their being not less than 
of ours. They earnestly desired to meet those they had found 
congenial upon earth, and hope foretold a reunion amid Elysian 
scenes. How would the passage have sounded in their ears, 
uttered with all the eloquence of unquestionable certainty, — 
"Then shall I know, even as also I am known"? It would 
have been as a rock in the place of the uncertain foundations 
on which their hopes were built ; as a resting-place where the 
weary wings of doubt might be folded, relieved from the neces- 
sity of beating about among the winds of conjecture. 

This same truth found a lodgment in the minds of the primi- 
tive fathers, who thought and wrote much of spiritual things. 
" Who, finding himself in a strange country, does not earnestly 
desire to return to his fatherland? " says Cyprian, in the third 
century. w Who, about to sail in haste for his home and his 
friends across the sea, does not long for a friendly wind, that he 
may the sooner throw his arms around his beloved ones ? " 

We believe Paradise to be our fatherland : our parents are 
the patriarchs : why should we not haste and fly to see our home 
and greet our parents ? A great host of beloved friends awaits 
us there : a numerous and varied throng, — parents, brethren, 
children, who are secure in a blessed immortality, and are 
looking with desire for our arrival. To see and embrace these, 
what a joy will this be to us and them ! 

Ambrose discoursed upon the benefits of death ; upon those 
things he fully believed he should realize when he should pass 
out of probation into eternity, when he should see the unseen 



VIEWS OF TEE FATHERS. 



469 



and know the unknown. " We shall go to those who sit down 
in the kingdom of God with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," he 
says ; " we shall go where there is a Paradise of pleasure, where 
Jesus hath prepared mansions for his servants, where the glory 
of God alone shines, where the thief himself rejoices in the 
participation of the heavenly kingdom, and where there are no 
more storms and vicissitudes — and this to be shared with those 
we love." 

Chrysostom and others indulged in the same inspiring hope, 
and drew consolation therefrom when those with whom they had 
held sweet counsel were taken from them. They believed in a 
meeting on heavenly plains where the communion of kindred 
souls would be perfect and lasting. They believed that they 
should recognize prophets and apostles whom they had not seen, 
but who, nevertheless, had wielded a powerful influence in the 
development of their inner and spiritual life. 

Such, too, is the belief of Christians in general. They who 

sing from the heart, — 

" Blest be the tie that binds 

Our hearts in Christian love," 

see a deep and precious significance in the blessing. The " tie " 
is not of earthly origin or character ; it binds to the throne of 
God, and encircling this, embraces the whole brotherhood, the 
entire family of the redeemed, awakening a common interest 
that will grow broader and deeper as eternity rolls on. There 
are no indissoluble bonds but those formed by Christ. They 
always endure. There is no imperfection in heavenly union. 
The clear transparency of character there, the motive-power of 
action, are so perfectly manifest there is not even the liability of 
misunderstanding, not even room for the shadow of anything 
doubtful. 

Loving each other and their God, and recognizing in each a 
resemblance to the great prototype, they constantly find food 
wherewith to feed the rising emotions of love and admiration. 
Every new acquaintance in the blessed circles will have some 



470 



REUNION A CHRISTIAN ANTICIPATION. 



new wonder of grace to relate ; some victory or triumph that 
others have not known in all its details. What joy in an 
instance like this, to experience a sudden recognition of one 
whose salvation had been tenderly cared for and earnestly 
sought, whom faith had borne to the mercy-seat in closet silence, 
but whose salvation was not fully known until it was learned in 
an interview in heaven. Doubtless these recognitions there will 
unfold results that present comprehension would deem marvel- 
lous indeed. We shall never know the extent of our influence 
until we learn it above, until we look out from a celestial stand- 
point ; but how doth it become us to let it be felt for Jesus, that 
it may be gathered up at the last as a fragrant offering to him, 
a benefit to others, and a lasting joy to ourselves ! 

The disciples on the favored mount were so affected by the 
recognition of Moses and Elias, that, in the intensity of their 
emotion, they exclaimed, " It is good for us to be here ! " How 
often will this be reiterated by the saints in glory as some new 
link is added to the chain of attachment, some new experience 
is gained of redeeming mercy ; for it is not our personal friends 
alone, those whose every lineament we bear about with us, that 
we shall know in heaven, but we shall have intercourse, as time 
passes on, with those who are newly arrived, and perchance with 
those who have long been in heaven. 

The idea of meeting friends who have gone before is certainly 
a prominent part of Christian anticipation as it draws near the 
time of full fruition. Those who have frequented beds of death 
have observed the strength of this feeling in the dying saint, 
and the power it exercised in producing submission. Those, 
whose friends have mostly passed over on the other side, find 
themselves living more there than here ; and the hope of meeting 
them, of looking upon them, and renewing the pleasures of 
intercourse, gives wings to desire, and makes them long to join 
them, where the pleasure will no more be mingled with pain. 
" I shall meet my companion, my child, my friend," says the 
dying believer ; for one of the first thoughts when death sum- 



ILLUSTRATIONS FROM CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. 471 



mons the Christian is the happy meeting that will take place 
with the departed friends in glory. Next to the smile of 
Jesus is their welcome, and it is they, he would fain believe, 
who come to form part of the convoy that wait upon him to 
the spirit land. 

"I see her, — my mother," — said an expiring believer, in 
tremulous tones, as she passed from earth into heaven. 

"I shall soon see Mary," said one, who felt herself nearer 
heaven than earth. Mary had been her friend in years that 
were gone, and was almost the only one she had ever missed 
from the circles of earth. The household band was entire, 
unbroken, and Mary was the friendly spirit to which she turned 
as the one to recognize in a world of spirits, so natural is it 
for the human heart to count upon loving recognition, both in 
this world and the next. It is an irrepressible desire of the 
soul. 

Said Baxter, whose soul was always glowing with the fervor 
of heavenly love, "I must confess, as the experience of my 
own soul, that the expectation of loving my friends in heaven 
principally kindles my love to them on earth. If I thought I 
should never know them, and consequently never love them, 
after this life is ended, I should in reason number them with 
temporal things, and love them as such. But I now delight 
to converse with my pious friends, in a firm persuasion that I 
shall converse with them forever ; and I take comfort in those 
of them who are dead or absent, as believing I shall shortly 
meet them in heaven, and love them with a heavenly love, that 
shall there be perfected." 

This is the hope of all Christians — a hope that controls and 
chastens grief, and extracts the sting from those otherwise 
intolerably painful partings which occur in the history of almost 
every individual upon earth. "It is but a little while, and we 
shall meet again," are the comforting words whispered in the 
ears of tearful kindred in thousands of instances. Whence 
this universal hope but from the Almighty? Whence this 



I 



472 VIEWS OF ELIOT AND MARTYN. 

desire, everywhere prevalent, for a renewal of earthly fellow- 
ship, but from Him who made the heart, and endowed it with 
capabilities which find scope only in such a fruition ? 

The apostle Eliot gained the confidence of an Indian chief, 
and was successful in leading him to embrace the truth of the 
Christian system. Rejoicing in the richness of his new-found 
hopes, the convert loved his guide and teacher, and in the sim- 
plicity of his faith came to him with the inquiry, " Shall I know 
you in heaven?" It touched a chord in the good man's heart, 
and he thought of "jewels," of "stars," and of "crowns of re- 
joicing," and said, " Surely the saints shall recognize those 
they brought to Jesus." Personal identity, it is believed, will 
never be wholly lost. The apostle and his convert will both 
carry their spiritual characteristics into another world. The 
latter will always gratefully recognize the influence of the one 
that taught him of Christ and heaven, and together, it seems, 
they will rejoice in that which they have been able to con- 
tribute to the glory of the Redeemer's crown. Can they ever 
cease to keep each other in grateful remembrance? 

The distance cannot widen between them — throughout 
eternity will the same relation exist. 

Henry Martyn studied the character of David Brainerd until 
he was possessed of the thoughts and feelings of his devout 
spirit, and the kindling of sympathy led him to exclaim, " I 
feel my heart knit to this dear man, and really rejoice to think 
of meeting him in heaven." 

The pious Newton mourned the death of his bosom friend — 
the beloved and amiable counsellor and companion of his days ; 
and in the sadness of his bereavement he looked forward to his 
entrance into the Promised Land, where, said he, "my clear 
Mary is waiting for me, as I humbly trust, and whom I shall 
join in sweetest praise when we meet together there." 

Whenever we look upon the records which Christian hearts 
have made, we find the same expression, the same acknowledg- 
ment. Inspiration, it is true, is not explicit on this point. It 



DAVID'S EXPECTATION. 



473 



does not directly assert it, nor contradict it ; on the contrary, 
it is everywhere implied, and many other truths stand in like 
position. 

David never seems to have entertained a doubt but that he 
should again embrace the child of his affections. " I shall 
go to him," is the confident declaration he makes to those 
who feared the demonstration of grief which might ensue upon 
the knowledge that his little innocent had departed. 

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my 
brethren, ye have done it unto me," says Christ to those stand- 
ing at his right hand ; and will there not be a recognition 
between those " brethren " and those who have ministered unto 
them in such a way as to secure the approbation of the great 
Judge? Lazarus knew him on whose bosom he leaned, and 
Paul speaks of those who will be presented together in the 
day of the Lord Jesus, as knowing, even as they are known. 

Surely we may count upon the joyful recognition of friends, 
upon meeting the loving ones in the streets of the New Jeru- 
salem, and walking with them "in white" on the holy errands 
on which our Lord may send us. If the attributes of mind 
bear a relation to the Eternal Mind, they are imperishable in 
their nature ; they cannot die nor cease to be active. Memory, 
then, must survive the tomb ; and if so, then recognition must 
follow. Besides, nothing that will enhance the joys of the 
redeemed will be excluded from Paradise. They are social 
beings there, and must derive their pleasure, to a certain 
extent, through mutual and loving intercourse ; and the re- 
membrances, brought from another state of existence, will not 
be obliterated. 

Those who have been loved upon earth must be regarded 
with a more perfect interest under such favorable circumstances, 
since attachments there are all sanctified and cemented by Jesus, 
whose love surpasses all other love. He loved the souls that, 
he called from the darkness of nature into the light of his 
truth when they were upon earth, and he loves them still with 



474 FELLOWSHIP WITB JESUS THE BEST. 



infinite love, when they bow before him in glory, ascribing the 
praise of their salvation unto him forever. 

Something like to this will be the love of saints, — the same 
in kind, though not in degree, but fervent and abiding. The 
chief attraction of heaven, however, is by no means this, that 
we shall meet friends to know and love them ; neither is it 
probable that first thoughts upon entering that happy place 
will centre in these. The soul, exulting in the benefits of re- 
demption, in free and full salvation, will be absorbed in Him 
who is the " author and finisher " of so glorious a scheme, and 
be especially sensible of grateful emotions that will lead to the 
most devout expression of gratitude because of being called to 
so blessed an inheritance. Jesus himself will be the bright 
centre of the heavenly world — the attraction first and last. 

Friendly reunions are indeed a very pleasant feature of the 
place prepared so lovingly for the saints. It is delightful to 
think of them. There are hours in which mourning hearts find 
themselves relieved of the heaviest burdens of grief by the 
anticipation of what is before them. They catch something of 
that exquisite joy which is to be theirs when the veil is re- 
moved, and "face to face" they behold the glorified ones, 
whose absence from earth was such a grief to them. The 
mother lays the child of her love in the grave, and says within 
herself, " We shall meet again ; it shall be mine to gaze upon 
the cherub face in the better land." 

Those in every relation of life are called to experience the 
sundering of ties of varied strength ; but in each and all of 
these instances the Christian has the consolation, for the mitiga- 
tion of his sorrow, that heaven is a place, not only of union, 
but of joyful recognition. They might meet there, and pass 
each other by, all unconscious that once they had deemed each 
other almost necessary to existence ; that once, in the confi- 
dence of love and friendship, they had known unmeasured 
delight — the dearest pleasure. But not such, we believe, are 
the characteristics of the heavenly state. 



BLISS OF HEAVENLY FELLOWSHIP. 



475 



The utmost freedom and cordiality will exist among the 
saints. Social life will reach its perfection there. They who 
are arrayed in white robes, coming through much tribulation 
into the kingdom, will have a common interest, and together 
will recount the discipline that was effectual in leading them to 
embrace the conditions of the life eternal. Joy will be mutual. 

What blessed elements make up the Christian's hope — the 
Christian's heaven ! No good thing is withheld. 

They are not only to have the companionship of all the 
loving and loved, embraced in gospel faith, through all eter- 
nity, but there is to be familiar and joyful intercourse with 
Jesus himself, with God and angels forever. What incitements 
are these to the love of Christ here, which is an essential prepa- 
ration for " the glory to be revealed ! " 

How should it stimulate all, amid the insecurity of earthly 
treasures, to lay up a portion in the great storehouse above, 
against which the winds of adversity never blow, the waves of 
destruction never beat ! We are tempest-tost pilgrims here, 
subject to a thousand dangers, and often, just at the moment 
when we see most in the horizon to excite our fears, when we 
look to our friends and fellow-travellers for help in the hour 
of peril and anxiety, they fail us, and we. are left alone to 
battle with the winds and waves, feeling that the conflict is 
unequal. There will be none of this, sailing down the calm, 
bright ocean of eternity. The happy voyagers there will never 
fail, never prove false to the confidence reposed in them. They 
will never speak in tones of disappointment, never know the 
feelings consequent upon unequal powers for any given work. 

Earth and heaven are different. One is a place of prepara- 
tion, the other a place of full fruition. One is a place of un- 
certainty, the other is a place of full and blessed assurance, and 
that assurance is perfect enjoyment forever and ever. 

What hallowed greetings there will be in glory ! What pen 
can tell the emotions of the faithful ambassador of Jesus as he 
recognizes those whom he has led to the cross, those whom he 



476 PRECIOUS REVELATIONS IN HEAVEN. 



has pointed to the open fountain again and again, perhaps never 
knowing in time whether their souls looked and lived ! " I went 
down with her to the banks of the Jordan," said one, coming 
from the death-bed of a triumphant Christian, "and I shall 
pass over and hear her tell the circumstances of her joyful 
arrival at Canaan after I left her. I committed her to angel 
hands, and we know she went safely ; and hoping to secure the 
same guide, the same convoy that attended her, I shall be con- 
ducted also to the same shore where she has gone, and she will 
come to welcome me, I doubt not, with an expression of love 
she never gave me below." 

The humble and retiring Christian, too, that labored in a 
quiet sphere for the good of souls, will see those who stand 
up and witness to his faithfulness — those whom he has been 
instrumental in starting in the divine life, or encouraging to 
holy endeavor after the feeble step had been turned heavenward. 

Blessed indeed are these recognitions, faithful Christian. Thy 
reward is great, thy prospect is glorious. The constant acquisi- 
tion of heavenly knowledge will only be new accessions to thy 
store of bliss. Every new acquaintance will bring new revela- 
tions that will stir new emotions, causing a fresh tide of holy 
joy to be coursing through thy soul. To know Christ is the 
first consideration : this acquaintance includes all, for it is he 
who is to introduce us to the society of heaven ; it is he who 
grants recognition to his people in another and far different 
state. 



CHILDREN IN HEAVEN. 



477 



CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

CHILDREN IN HEAVEN. 

Childhood and Innocence. — Power of infant Smiles. — The Convict. — 
Lord Byron. — Children an Attraction of Heaven. — Saved by Grace. — 
Theory of Augustine. — TJie early Reformers. — Zwingle. — Calvin. — 
Christ's Love to little Ones a Pledge. 

"There is a Reaper, whose name is Death; 
And with his sickle keen 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
And the flowers that grow between. 

" ' Shall I have nought that is fair ? ' saith he, 
' Have nought but the bearded grain ? 
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 
I will give them all back again.' " — Longfellow. 

If beauty and innocence are anywhere enthroned in thia 
world, it is upon the brow of infancy and childhood. The 
material world is by no means wanting in attraction ; there is 
much that is lovely here, but the beauty is not like the fade- 
less lines which we see drawn upon the souls of the little lisping 
ones fresh from the hand of their Maker. This is spiritual, and 
therefore infinitely exceeds all that the inanimate creation pre- 
sents. The sparkling eye betrays intelligence long before lan- 
guage becomes the vehicle of expression, and the joyous smile 
and ringing laugh tell how much happiness dwells in the little 
bosom, given by God himself, who breathed the breath of life 
into the tiny form, and watches over it with tender interest. 
There are no such smiles in all the world as those of infancy — 
so pure, so loving, so sweet. There is no selfish policy lurking 
at the bottom of these, no hypocritical semblance of love that it 
is considered better to show than not to show. These have no 



478 



POWER OF INFANCY. 



resemblance to smiles that are forced : when they play upon 
the countenance, it is because a loving nature must find expres- 
sion ; because a happy spirit must lavish its wealth upon others, 
which favoring Heaven bestowed so freely. Conscience has no 
reproaches for them ; the workings of remorse disturb not the 
placidity of their features or the tranquillity of their souls. 
The repose so often manifest here suggests the idea of a better 
land to care-burdened hearts. The loving smile of a child 
has melted an obdurate heart, and made it give forth tears 
of penitence when all things else have failed, when the most 
stirring appeals from fellow-citizens and companions have fallen 
only to be unheeded and unfelt. It has proved a ray of light 
to the desponding, that has sent him on the way of life with new 
courage ; a burst of sunshine to the gloomy one, that has kin- 
dled fresh animation, and invested the objects of earth and time 
with a new beauty and meaning ; and it has soothed and com- 
forted the mourning heart like a Heaven-sent messenger to 
lighten or remove the burdens so often imposed. 

?? Is God dead ? " whispered the soft voice of a child in the ear 
of its weeping mother. " Why ? " said the parent. " Because 
you told me God was always good," said the child, " and you 
cry as if he was dead." The unconscious rebuke did its work. 
The innocent child returned to her play ; the mother dried her 
tears, to mourn and to marvel because of her own distrust of 
Divine Providence, and at the faithfulness of her little reprover, 
whom God had so effectually used. 

A lonely convict in a prison cell was attracted by the smiling 
countenance of a little child three or four years of age, and 
begged to be allowed the privilege of taking it to his arms. 
The little prattler, all unconscious of sin and its dreadful ef- 
fects, sat upon the knee of him who had trampled upon the 
sacredness of law, and smiled as sweetly upon him as upon 
others not so guilty. 

Flowers blossom in rugged landscapes, in isolated patches 
at the base of frosty mountains, and we regard them as gems of 



TEE CONVICT SAVED. 



479 



rare beauty — we appreciate them more because of their position 
and surroundings. Kindred emotions might be awakened at a 
sight like this — the innocent beside the man of towering guilt ; 
the one softening under gentle, genial influences, the other not 
knowing how much she imparts by the fragrance of her unfold- 
ing virtues. 

Day by day the child visited the cell, until the wretched man 
came to listen for the pattering of the light footstep upon the 
stone-laid floor with the greatest eagerness. In these moments 
of strange communion he forgot his wretchedness, and felt his 
soul struggling to claim affinity with that which is pure and 
noble — a desire to wear the insignia of a worthy and true 
character, rather than to bear about continually the impress of 
fallen and degraded humanity. 

It was the mission of that child to reclaim the lost, and lov- 
ingly and faithfully she fulfilled her trust. Love and innocence 
are mighty in the hands of a child. God has made them well 
nigh irresistible. The proud and callous heart of the infidel 
has been subdued by them, and brought to the cordial recogni- 
tion, to the embrace, of all those things which they silently 
proclaim as the "good part which cannot be taken away." 
Children have led those strongest in sin willing captives to the 
feet of Jesus, there to surrender every weapon ever employed 
against the authority of Heaven ; they have subdued the care- 
less to reflection, and caused the prayerless to bow tremblingly 
and anxiously at the throne of grace. They have suggested 
words of encouragement to the doubting, and those of warning 
to the unbelieving. They play an important part in the acts 
of the world's drama. God, the prime mover and actor, fits 
them by his own training to perform their part in wonderful 
perfection. They are essential to the scene — to its effect. 
The group upon the stage of life is not complete without them. 
Their clear and silvery notes must chime in with the organ and 
the lute, or there is something wanting — there is a chord in 
human nature that is not touched. 



480 



THE SMILE OF INFANCY. 



There are feelings in every soul that will always remain dor- 
mant until the low cooings of an infantile creature stir them 
up ; and then, as if a magic spring had been touched, they burst 
from their confinement, and fly out to fullest and freest activity. 
Nothing else has such power. It is well nigh marvellous ; and 
yet to the happy recipients of this influence it seems most nat- 
ural that this should be. There seems so much of sweet sim- 
plicity in the look that appeals silently, yet touchingly, for love 
and protection, they cannot but allow it to go into the very 
depths of their natures. We have awarded power to child- 
hood, and it is just. We might cite very many instances where 
it has been exerted so as to bless the world, to exalt and ben- 
efit mankind ; but it is to helpless and smiling infancy that we 
turn now as unto something of peculiar loveliness. 

"Three things," says a pleasing writer, "appear to be unin- 
jured by the fall — the song of birds, the beauty of flowers, 
and the smile of infancy ; for it is difficult to conceive how 
either of these could have been more perfect had man remained 
holy ; as if God would leave us something to remind us of the 
Paradise we have lost, and to point us to that winch we may 
regain." 

We cannot tell just how deep an impress sin has left upon 
all things ; but it is to be confessed that if there is anything 
heavenly here below, it is seen in the smile of innocence 
as it rests upon the features of the little ones before they 
begin to know there is such a thing as sin in the world. 
As morning is brighter and fresher than the noonday, as the 
bud that laughingly opens is more beautiful than the full- 
blown flower, so is the infant soul, unfolding itself in the con- 
genial atmosphere of love, more attractive and winning than 
in later years, when it begins to choose that which is wrong, 
and yield itself to an influence that obscures the early bright- 
ness. Whether Christian or not, it is acknowledged by all 
parental hearts that there is a power in the smiles of the little 
cherubs that look up, as if they would say, Love that which is 
good, which they cannot resist. 



BYBON'S LOVE FOB HIS DAUGETEB. 



481 



Byron has been considered wanting in the finer sensibilities 
of the human heart ; and those at all acquainted with his char- 
acter know that the gentle virtues did not flourish there — the 
soil was not congenial. Home and its dear and sacred associa- 
tions, which other men love and cling to strongest and longest, 
he put away from him, procuring for himself banishment to a 
distant land, that he might be beyond the sphere from whence 
softening, hallowed influences would flow. Even there he was 
haunted by the image of his infant daughter ; and the involun- 
tary sigh often escaped his lips because of the sweetness and 
loveliness that could not reach or comfort him. There, in his 
exile, he acknowledged to himself there would be pleasure to 
watch for the first dawning of intelligence and the unfoldings 
of her infantile mind. 

Harsher natures even than Byron's have been touched and 
made better by these same things ; and it seems that the little 
ones have been sent into the w r orld on a mission which they are 
unconsciously to fulfil — one that it is difficult, yea, almost im- 
possible, for those more advanced in life to perform at all. A few 
short months of infant teaching have sometimes done more than 
the most eloquent appeals of the most gifted could accomplish 
in a long time — done it silently, but effectually. 

An only son, living with his parents, took home a wife ; and 
in the course of time, for some reason or other, a division arose, 
followed by an unhappy alienation between the younger pair 
and the elders. It continued, and seemed likely to increase, 
until was heard the soft voice of one of these little Heaven- 
sent messengers calling to reconciliation. It twined about 
the heart of the parents, and, reaching still farther, took hold 
upon those next related, drawing all together by the cords of 
love. Strife was buried, animosity no more cherished, and the 
loving circle was happy — made so by a little child. How beau- 
tiful the incident ! Poets are wont to catch everything that is 
fair and lovely in the world ; and it is for this reason we so 
often see odes and sonnets dedicated to smiling infancy. 
31 



482 



PARENTAL DELIGHT. 



They have taken their places by them, and expressed their 
admiration and love in smooth and harmonious numbers, more 
smooth because of the dimpled cheek that touched their own ; 
more harmonious because of the soft hand that played so skil- 
fully upon the heartstrings. " To my child," is the dedication 
often observed ; and there follows what seems a world of beauty 
to the originators, in "silken hair," "bright eyes," "loving 
looks," and "gleeful smiles." It is well that it should be so. 
It is well that every parent should sing, — 

" A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure." 

It is well that there is something to stir the heart-fountain to 
its very depths ; it is needful. It was kind in Him who " knew 
what human hearts would prove," to make the provision which 
was demanded. Says one, from the outgushings of parental 
affection, while reviewing the playful acts and winning ways of 
his infant child, " Human bliss arrives at perfection as frequently 
in such scenes and experiences as when we have made calcu- 
lations for happiness : indeed, we are never more happy than 
during the little sudden tournaments of love with a young 
child. 

" Sometimes," he adds, " I looked at the sweet creature with a 
feeling of awe. Mine, indeed, she was ; but in what a subor- 
dinate sense ! That perfect frame, that wondrous mind, that 
immortal destiny, often made me shrink into nothingness at 
the contemplation of her, feeling that God, in making her, had 
rolled a sphere into an orbit which is measureless, making it 
touch mine, but having a path of its own, which cannot be 
comprehended in that of another, not even in that of the earthly 
parent. She was to me a perfect joy. Her beautifully unfold- 
ing life left me nothing to desire." 

How intense the love felt for these young immortals ! What 
watchings are maintained, what self-denials cheerfully endured, 
for their sakes ! They are carefully shielded from the cold 
winds of adversity, and closely pressed to the bosom, if any 



CHILDREN AN ATTRACTION OF HEAVEN. 



483 



danger is nigh ; and if death approaches, parents would fain 
take their little ones with them. "I wish I might take him 
with me," said a youthful mother, upon the bed of death, of her 
infant child, one that she had called her own but a few months. 
Fondly she had gazed into the depths of its little eyes, and 
read what none others could see there, and it had awakened 
many pleasant thoughts. So it is with every mother. There 
are no eyes that reveal quite so much as those that turn con- 
fidingly to her from the one she calls her own. Are these to 
have so prominent a place in the homes of earth, in their 
enjoyments, and then have none in the heavenly household ? 
Will not infants, departing this life, be as flowers transplanted 
to a richer soil and more genial clime, to unfold in greater 
beauty and perfection there ? Will they not ascend to heaven 
to dwell forever in love — the only element they have ever 
known ? Will they not be one of the attractions of heaven ? 
These are questions which loving and mourning hearts, bereft 
of their little treasures, must ask. Thought and affection will 
follow them to their spirit destination, and try to comprehend 
the character of their new life ; but all that they can know is 
what they can ascertain this side the grave, from the sources 
God has given. The veil is never lifted to gratify human 
curiosity ; mortals may never see what is behind, until they, 
too, enter into the sacred enclosure, and see what they have 
long desired to see. 

We love to think that infants are carried to heaven ; we 
have foundation for the belief, as we think. What other fit 
place for their pure spirits do we know ? 

" Heaven would be wanting in one attraction," said a vener- 
able divine, "were I to dissociate the idea of children with it." 
He had himself buried a bright little creature, whose first 
lisping accents had been of heaven and the angels, and who 
went to the spirit land with the idea of obtaining wings that 
would do service in fanning the fevered brows of the loved 
ones that he had left. " Mother," said the little one, whose 



484 



DEATH OF CHILDREN. 



childish lore seemed to be of God, "I'm going up into the sky, 
and when I'm an angel, I'll come and fan you with my wings." 
Kipeness for heaven seems not alone the result of long experi- 
ence and discipline. There are some little forms, some little 
souls, of almost angelic loveliness from the very moment of 
their existence, and Heaven lovingly calls them hence, before 
the world has breathed a blight upon their innocence, to their 
brighter home in the skies. They go with a smile upon their 
lips, that tells of joy they never had words to express. Can 
any one look upon an infant, smiling and peaceful in death, 
and doubt that heaven has begun with that little spirit which 
has gone? 

"I saw an infant, marble cold, 

Borne from the pillowing breast, 
And in the shroud's embracing fold 

Laid down to dreamless rest ; 
And, moved with bitterness, I sighed, 

Not for the babe that slept, 
But for the mother at its side, 

Whose soul in anguish wept." 

The little sleepers need not our tears. They escape the 
woes and trials that beset the path of life so thickly, and live 
in blissful ignorance of the dire experience and power of sin. 
There are no steps to retrace, no departures to mourn over. 
We do not say that these are by nature holy — that by virtue 
of their own they enter into the world of light and love. 
The atonement of Christ is necessary for their salvation. 

They have not actual transgression to be washed away and 
answered for ; but the moral taint consequent upon the fall is 
upon them, and the blood of Jesus must insure their entrance 
into Paradise. When the Israelites so sinned that they were 
excluded from Canaan, the children were included in the prom- 
ise and the blessing. So it seems that the infants taken from 
among the sinning children of men are among those that the 
Eedeemer takes to himself. "Their angels," said Christ, "do 
always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." 



CHILDREN SAVED BY GRACE. 



485 



Blessed assurance to those who have laid their little ones in 
the grave ! It has dried the tears in the eyes of many a Chris- 
tian mother, and made feelings of loneliness and sadness give 
place to those of inexpressible comfort, causing the heart to 
join in the expression of one bereaved, "I do feel that there is 
some honor and privilege in being selected by Christ to con- 
tribute an infant soul to his mediatorial crown. I am glad 
that I had a flower in my garden, so precious that the Lord 
of all wished to transplant it for me to his own special care 
and love." 

Sometimes whole households are transplanted in the tender 
buddings of infancy. We have seen one after another cut 
down, until a long row of little graves told the home story of 
desolation and grief ; but these sweet things of earth, these 
infant souls, stand w amid the wonders of the shining throne," 
and ought not to be mourned over. Who ever bent over a 
little coffin without inwardly exclaiming that the silent sleeper 
was the infinite gainer, in having so soon exchanged its prison- 
house of clay for a mansion in the skies ? In the vision that 
the exile of Patmos was permitted to have of the New Jeru- 
salem, he "saw the dead, small and great, stand before God ; " 
those who went in the morning of life, as well as those who 
departed in the evening. 

Immortal youth is the gift of all the celestial inhabitants ; 
but we imagine a difference between those who entered the 
sacred city with the accumulated honors of age, and those who 
went with the seal of rosy childhood. We cannot tell of the 
sphere awarded to infancy there. That they are interested in 
Him through whom their salvation was secured is evident from 
the fact that they always are beholding the face radiant with 
divine glory. Their minds will be continually unfolding a 
necessity of the law of progress in all God's universe ; and 
redemption will doubtless be made plain to their minds in 
some portion of their history which runs parallel with eter- 
nity. Harbaugh has said that " infants pass out of this world 



486 



OPINION OF AUGUSTINE. 



without a knowledge of that manifold wisdom which belongs 
to the plan of salvation, and it is reasonable to believe that 
they will be taught it there. It is a beautiful suggestion, 
which some writers have made, that these infant spirits are, 
in heaven, under the tuition of angels and human spirits. If 
they there learn what they had no time here to acquire, of 
which there can be no doubt, it is more natural, and most in 
accordance with all we know of the divine order, to suppose 
that it will be imparted to them in the natural way, than that 
it will be done by a miracle. For, not only would their own 
happiness be increased by such a gradual opening of their 
minds to the dawn of holy wisdom, but it would also afford 
occasion of purest joy to benevolent spirits, whether angelic 
or human, to be thus employed. What can afford a sweeter 
consolation to the bereaved bosom than the idea of deceased 
infants being at once received as the proteges of celestial guar- 
dians, and there trained in the lessons of angelic wisdom and 
love ? How precious the thought that these tender flowerets 
of hope are not so much nipped and withered by death as 
transplanted to a heavenly garden, there to flourish in brighter 
bloom, and to exhale a richer fragrance through ages unknow- 
ing of an end ! " 

This is a precious Christian doctrine, though in times past it 
has been denied by those professing to hold the faith ; and now 
it is not everywhere prevalent. Augustine, a prominent father 
of the primitive church, argued to the contrary — that salva- 
tion remained not for the little ones ; and such was the char- 
acter of his reasoning and teachings as to obtain for him the 
very unenviable title of " harsh father of infants." 

The early reformers, so firm and true on many important 
points of Christian faith and doctrine, nevertheless coincided 
in sentiment with the above leader, and certain so-called 
churches of the present time maintain that, unless the seal of 
baptism is borne, there is no admission into heaven. Such is 
the belief of the Eoman Catholic church now : hence the 



BELIEF OF ZWINGLE AND CALVIN. 487 



eagerness of Catholic parents to present their children for bap- 
tism at an early day, lest they be taken away, and be lost 
forever. " Accursed " is the word written, by the order of an 
established council, against all those who teach anything else. 
Confidence in their salvation is never felt until they stand by 
the altar for the administration of the sacred rite, that is to 
be unto them as a passport through the pearly gates into the 
place of peace and blessedness. 

Among the first, if not the first, to advocate the doctrine 
of infant salvation, whether baptized or not, was the Swiss 
reformer Zwingle. With him it made no difference whether 
life began in Christian or in heathen lands ; all those who had 
never shared in actual sin he believed would be saved by 
grace ; and he looked upon the whole band of infants that go 
up from the world to the God that owns them, as an army to 
serve in the Lord's field above with pure and sinless delight. 
By faith he saw the arms of Jesus embracing them all, and 
giving them everlasting protection in his kingdom. 

At a later day the name of Calvin became associated with 
this same truth, and it received earnest and faithful vindication 
from him. He, too, saw the smiling infant group take wings, 
and fly to the bosom of Jesus; and then he saw the Good 
Shepherd conduct them into pleasant places beside the " still 
waters," and cause them to lie down in the green and flowery 
pastures of the heavenly land, there to be delighted with 
everything that met their gaze, and to be safe from every 
danger, and free from all weariness. 

All this might indeed be a pleasant illusion of the human 
mind. One that had mourned a loving child departed might, 
perhaps, naturally have had some such visions of its final weal. 
It is not improbable, but we should find nothing certain, 
were we limited to human authority entirely. We might, 
indeed, very justly conclude that innocence would find its 
only and appropriate place in heaven — it belongs there. 



488 CHRIST'S DECLARATION. 

It is the words of Jesus, however, here as elsewhere, that 

assure our minds as nothing else does. 

" See Israel's gentle Shepherd stand 
"With all-engaging charms ; 
Hark ! how he calls the tender lambs, 
And folds them in his arms ! 

" ' Permit them to approach,' he cries, 
' Nor scorn their humble name ; 
For 'twas to bless such souls as these 
The Lord of angels came.' " 

It is a touching scene in the life of Christ, when he takes 
little children in his arms and blesses them. Behold Him 
of transcendent glory — the divine and almighty Saviour, to 
whom " the uttermost parts of the earth " are given for a pos- 
session — stooping most benignantly to cheer and comfort the 
little ones. What tenderness is manifest ! How the com- 
passion of his infinite heart is lavished upon them ! The dis- 
ciples would not have the precious time of their Lord wasted 
thus ; they and those that were older demanded his care and 
attention. They even rebuked those who brought children to 
Jesus for his merciful ministry and blessing. But what was 
the response? The sacred lips parted, and there flowed forth 
the words that have been echoed by so many childish voices, 
and which have comforted so many bleeding hearts, since that 
memorable day and occasion which called them out — - " Suffer 
the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for 
of such is the kingdom of heaven." " Jesus himself became 
an infant, sanctifying infants." He loved them, and when he 
said, " of such is the kingdom," can there be any doubt of its 
meaning? A "child" was set for an example when the people 
would know of the fitness he required for admission to the 
heaven prepared. " Except ye become as this," was the reply s 
" ye cannot enter ; " thereby implying that these were eminently 
fitted for his kingdom and rest. It was for them to shout 
hosanna in earth and heaven to his praise. They are to form 
jewels in his crown, to shine in his diadem of glory forever. 



NO DIRGES FOR THE DEATH OF CHILDREN. 489 



Behold how the white-robed infant multitude extends its 
vast and interminable lines along the city of God, till the last 
fade from sight in the dim, distant infinitude of bliss ; and, at 
the approach of Him who blessed all when he blessed those in his 
arms, they join in the full chorus of the sky : " The Lamb ! the 
Lamb ! Worthy is the Lamb that died for us ! " It is Jesus 
that paved the way for them to the skies, " for as in Adam all 
die, so in Christ shall all be made alive." 

It is on this ground that Christians rejoicingly stand when they 
look into the graves of those they have kept but a little time. 
They hear the invitation of Jesus to the children, " Suffer them 
to come," and they are glad they are bidden to the royal court 
so early : they mingle again in the varied scenes of active life, 
with the restraining and comforting thought that they have a 
child in heaven, that the M early lost are early saved." " I think 
of my child as just above me," said a Christian mother : " I look 
up, and by faith see the little one happy in lisping the praises 
of Jesus. I cannot wish it back." Dirges are not befitting 
the death of children. God takes them in his mercy — lambs 
" un tasked, untried ; " and Christ clasps them to his embrace lov- 
ingly and tenderly, forever to shield them with his love. They 
go from this world without feeling any of those parting pangs 
which others feel — without any of those fears of coming retri- 
bution which crowd in upon the guilty soul when the uplifting 
veil reveals the eternal future, and without the knowledge that 
Death is a stern and inexorable foe to mankind in general. They 
meet the summons of the messenger without any dread, and lie 
down in the grave with no idea of its loneliness. They go 
through the dark valley, and fly to the bosom of their Saviour 
with love and confidence, saying, as it would seem, " I am thine 
— I come ! " There " they shall all bloom in fields of light " — 
there, it may be, watch for the coming of those who gave them 
up below. 

" When a shepherd finds the sheep unwilling to enter the 
fold," says Dr. Payson, " he sometimes takes up the lambs, 



490 



TEE MOTHER SORROWING BUT SAVED. 



and places them within, when their dams will follow." An 
ambitious and worldly-minded mother doted upon her infant 
child. She pressed it to her bosom, and questioned not her right 
to call it all her own ; but He who gave it rightfully presented 
a superior claim, and took it to himself. As the mother thought 
of the voice that was forever hushed, as she looked upon the 
marble brow, the closed eye and lip, and felt, moreover, the 
dreadful vacancy in her heart, she felt her soul stirred in oppo- 
sition to the divine will, and she murmured, " Why must I be 
so hardly dealt with? It is unjust. Those who have many 
have their circles unbroken, while my one is taken from me." 
" God needed your child in heaven," said a friend, " and he wants 
you to follow." 

The tempest of rebellion was stilled, the angry waves ceased 
their raging, and the mother began to think, even over the body 
of her child, of a port of peace. The future and its conditions 
began to wear a new significance, and to appear more like living 
realities. She had a child " passed into the skies," and she too 
was passing away. The frivolities of the world yielded her no 
comfort in the hour of bereavement ; they were no preparation 
for the time that was coming — the time when earth and all its 
scenes would grow dim and fade away. The voice of the dead 
seemed ever to say, " Come to these regions of light and love, 
mother; come where Jesus, the Saviour, lives." Wherever she 
went, in whatever she engaged, she still heard the pleading 
tones, as of an unseen spirit, saying, Come to Jesus and heaven. 
In such a frame her eye met the words, — 

" Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish, 
Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel 
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish : 
Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal." 

It was balm to her aching heart ; it led her to the fountain 
of truth ; and searching the sacred pages, she found the gates of 
light, and entered in. She bowed in loving submission to the 
Most High, and said with equal heartiness as did one of old, 



THE LORD'S NEED OF CHILDREN. 



491 



"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
name of the Lord." The child upon earth never led her to the 
foot of the cross. It was the child in heaven, and she thanked 
God he took her child to a place of safety to secure her own. 

God's ways are just and right. He takes many, very many, 
from the world in infancy : we know not why, but they accom- 
plish the end of their creation in their brief sojourn here, and 
it is well. Theirs is a mission of love, and they perform it well, 
and the Lord owns and takes them, before the burden and heat 
of the day overpower them, and they faint beneath the pressure 
that is upon them. Surely it is loving kindness and tender 
mercy that is over these little ones. 

" ' My Lord hath need of the flowerets gay, 
The Eeaper said, and smiled ; 
1 Dear tokens of the earth are they, 
Where he was once a child.' " 

If the Lord need the little children to enhance the loveliness 
of his heavenly home, why should parents resign themselves to 
uncontrollable grief when their little ones are transplanted 
thither? This, we know, is treading on sacred ground. We 
know that when the tendrils of affection are twined about the 
lisping, loving ones, it is like touching the life in its most 
vital part to have them torn away ; but we know, too, that 
the infinite heart of Jesus sympathizes most tenderly when he 
applies the instrument of separation, and that he never leaves 
them bruised and bleeding without providing balm for their heal- 
ing. He sees a necessity for calling the K little child unto him ; " 
nor should mortals attempt to pry between the " folded leaves," 
where the reason is hid. Eeasons are reserved for future 
revelation : it should be enough that love is the principle of 
the divine government ; that it underlies all discipline, however 
seemingly adverse this may be. Our mission is imperfect ; we 
can see but a little way, for there is a mist between us and 
the spiritual ; there is a cloud between us and the throne where 
" righteousness and judgment " have their habitation. 



492 DEATH OF CHILDREN FELICITOUS. 



When the child of wicked parents is taken away from the 
evil that surrounds it, it is not hard to say, It is well, or even 
to rejoice in the event. We say it is more fortunate than in this 
ungenial atmosphere, where there is no probability that it will 
develop into soul-beauty, dispensing fragrance in its path that 
will benefit and gladden others. It is true, we are glad for 
such, that the Lord takes them from the evil to come ; that he 
takes them into his own presence, and saves them by grace. 

When the little ones are marked as victims of suffering, then, 
too, we rejoice in an early translation to a world where suffering 
is unknown. We feel not like wishing their protracted stay, 
for it is only prolonging the sorrow we cannot mitigate. A 
sigh of relief almost bursts from the heart when the last breath 
leaves an expression of peace upon the body, whence the view- 
less, painless spirit has fled, and we say, It is a mercy to the 
child that it was taken. In some of these things we can see 
reasons, but there are other instances that we are wont to sig- 
nalize as trying dispensations, mysterious providences. 

When a beautiful child of Christian parents is smitten down, 
— one around whom the hallowed influences of Christ's religion 
will be made to gather from earliest infancy, with their power 
to fit for a useful and happy life, — then it seems more strange 
that the Destroyer is abroad — that he is permitted to send an 
arrow just there. 

When the wife has been bereft of companion and children, 
and one, the last, remains as a beam of sunshine on her path, 
that one grows pale and languishes, and shuts its eyes upon 
all sublunary things, we mingle our tears with the mourner, 
and wonder that the only solace was taken away. But why 
these selfish wonderings ? Are not the great plans and purposes 
of God better than all human calculation ? 

" If God needs my child for his glory," said a father, emi- 
nent for his piety, " I am willing he should take it." He needs 
what he takes — he takes what he needs ; and this should be 
the feeling with which little rigid bodies and little graves 
should be viewed. 



DEATH OF CHILDREN MYSTERIOUS. 493 



From whatever condition children are taken, they are called 
in heavenly wisdom, and with their early death ends all uncer- 
tainty of final salvation ; for we repeat, that He who cares so 
tenderly for the lambs, He who regarded them so lovingly 
when he was upon earth, will not banish them from his presence ; 
He will not leave them to perish apart from the fold. 

So much of beauty is associated with the death of infants 
with a certain people, and this an unchristian one, that, instead 
of symbols of mourning, everything is decorated with the great- 
est care. The coffin which encloses their remains is an elegant 
embroidered trunk, in which the child lies enveloped in flowers. 
" The cloisters where they are deposited are remarkably dry 
and neat, kept always fresh with paint and whitewash, and 
generally in a pretty garden, embellished with parterres and 
aromatic flowering shrubs ; so that the charnel-house is di- 
vested of everything offensive, or even dismal, and redolent 
with incense and perfumes." 

The inhabitants of an island of the sea were formerly in the 
habit of bearing their infants to burial with lively and playful 
airs of music sounding all the way to the grave. Shall heathen 
nations see occasion for joyful emotions, and not those in Chris- 
tian lands, who see angels bending down to clasp their little 
ones, and bear them to the bosom of the Saviour, to regions 
of pure and unending delight ? 

Shall they sing lively strains at burial-places, and Christians 
refuse to sing the Lord's songs because he sometimes calls 
them hither. Mourning for the dead is a privilege that is not 
denied us. We should prove ourselves unnatural did we not 
weep ; but grief should be chastened and moderated, and may 
be by the application of the sovereign remedy, Gilead's balm. 

The sweet, opening buds are lovely ; we love to look at 
them ; we love to cherish them ; and we grieve to see them 
droop from the parent stem ; but there is much, O, how much ! 
that is comforting in the death of infant children. " Of such 
is the kingdom of heaven." 



494 



IMMORTALITY. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE BODY GLORIFIED. 

Rich Endowments of Immortality. — Conflicting State of Body and Spirit 
here. — TJie glorified Body powerful. — Glorious and honorable. — Incor- 
ruptible and spiritual. — Blessedness of the Combination. — Holiness 
and Perfection the End of true Self -Discipline. 

" Made like him, like him we rise." 

" 0, how the resurrection light 
Will clarify believer's sight." 

How richly endowed is immortality ! No mortal being can 
traverse the length and breadth of this broad avenue ; none 
know its heights, that tower so sublimely above the skies, or 
look into the depths to discover the shining ore that sparkles 
beneath the gaze of the Omniscient One. These places have 
been trodden alone by the Infinite, in the past eternity of his 
existence ; but in a time coming he may act as guide in con- 
ducting the sainted ones to the place where the treasures lie 
concealed. Moreover, he may say unto them, as they stand 
with admiring gaze, "These are thine ; use them for thy pleas- 
ure." There is a great deal of beauty and of wealth in this 
world that we call ours ; but it is limited, being confined to a 
few that we call favored — a few whom Fortune and Nature 
seem to have crowned with special honor. There are places 
in remote lands, far over desert plains and stormy oceans, 
where veins of gold and silver run through the earth ; and a 
few leave all to gain their treasures, that the current of life 
may run quicker and smoother with them. There are pearls 
imbedded deep beneath the dark waves of the ocean, and life 



RICH ENDOWMENTS OF IMMORTALITY. 495 



is put in jeopardy to obtain the brilliant drops that sparkle 
like dew on the petals of the summer flower of the morning ; 
and there are diamonds washed from sands that many thou- 
sands cannot buy, and which men value as the glory of king- 
doms. There are green-clad hills, and sunny glens. There 
are beautiful landscapes, and smiling, "happy valleys," that 
are not all fable. But the beauty grows dim, and the wealth 
fades away, before the superior brightness and richness of all 
things on the immortal shores. 

There is no peril in extracting the pearls from the ocean of 
immortality, no weariness in searching for the diamonds that 
glisten in the sands of the "crystal stream." Golconda is not 
to be mentioned beside the richly-freighted mines of the celes- 
tial world. The treasures there exceed, both in quantity and 
quality, all ever obtained below. There is no dross, nothing 
of inferior value. All is pure gold, without alloy. The hills, 
glens, and vales are more bright and fair than the fairest here. 
Discontent came into the " Happy Valley," of fabled memory, 
and marred the happiness of a strangely-favored family ; but it 
is a forbidden guest among the Immortals, and they roam the 
whole country with never a feeling of this sort. Why should 
they, with so rich an inheritance, so rich a nature? 

We speak of remarkable endowments in this life, and lan- 
guage has a fitness for these things. It expresses our appre- 
ciation of it — its power, strength, and beauty; but when 
we come to speak of the rich endowments of immortality, 
what terms can proclaim its glory ? It has blessings for both 
body and soul ; and who can tell what these blessings involve 
— what it is to rise to a spiritual existence — to rise with that 
" spiritual body " of which Paul speaks ? Body now is a hin- 
derance to the soul's activity ; but then it will be a most desira- 
ble and blessed auxiliary in effecting those things to which God 
calls, and holy ambition prompts. Now it cripples the energy 
of spirit, continually dragging it downward, when it is ever 
desirous of pluming itself for lofty and ennobling flights — 



496 



CONFLICT OF BODY AND SPIRIT. 



keeping it in the " Valley of Humiliation " when it would stand 
on the " Delectable Mountains." Now it is deformed, imperfect, 
and inefficient ; but there it will be beautiful, perfect, wondrous- 
ly and gloriously efficient, working harmoniously with spirit 
in the blessed sphere they occupy, — together a rising monu- 
ment to God's glory — an everlasting memorial to his praise. 

We leave out something of the completeness of salvation, if 
we leave out the body ; if we suppose it merely a frame- 
work built up around the spirit for its temporary advantage, 
while maintaining its connection with the material world, and 
to be of no more use forever, when this connection ceases. At 
the last, "they that are in their graves shall come forth." 
What shall come forth ? 

The spirit never was there. That has long been with God. 
Our "slumbering dust" is the Father's care, and would he 
guard it to no purpose, if it had no end to serve hereafter? 

Into every proper conception of the heavenly world there 
enters the idea of a glorified body. What that body may be 
we learn only by revelation, though its analogies bring us to 
the silent and unseen influences of nature, which produce results 
that we can see, while the manner of operation is not seen. It 
is for us to " take what the Lord revealeth." The question was 
once asked by the children of men, "How are the dead raised 
up ? and with what body do they come ? " and the answer was, 
"That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die." 
Through the power of God, and the work of Christ, there is 
to come from the "corruptible body," that is deposited in the 
grave, one that is incorruptible ; from one that is weak, one 
that will be strong ; from one that bears the marks of dishonor, 
one with which will be associated the greatest of honor. 

Know we not that Omnipotence is equal to the production 
of all this ? Pagan philosophers answer, no ! — that it is ab- 
surd — contrary to nature ; that the body is only the place of 
confinement, the tomb of the spirit ; and that upon the flight 
of the latter there is no more need of the former ; therefore it 



RESURRECTION NOT IMPOSSIBLE WITH GOD. 497 



crumbles away, a useless and forgotten thing, not even re- 
membered as the cell of former occupancy. They argue further, 
even declaring it an impossibility with the Divine Being to 
accomplish it — a something which he neither could nor would 
do ; and that if one should base wishes and expectations upon 
it, would find the hope groundless, and the desire utterly 
futile. Others cannot at all reconcile the idea of anything like 
a material body with "a pure spirit, — such is the deep-seated 
and unconquerable prejudice they entertain against all matter. 
This is the origin, the sum total, as it were, of all evil. With 
them, matter and spirit are eternally antagonistic principles, 
and no power on earth or in heaven they deem sufficient to 
bring about a perfect union. The former, like the evil spirit 
of the red man, allures and enslaves the latter, and the gift 
of salvation is freedom from the dominion of the earthly power, 
finally and forever. This is human reasoning. No mortal 
invention could bring them together so as to produce anything 
like harmony. 

The work is not required of mortals, they are inadequate to it. 
It demands infinite resources — the skill of one who is mighty 
in all things. It needed the incarnation, the wonderful display 
on Calvary, and the bursting of the sacred, garden sepulchre, 
where the loving disciple had made his precious deposit of the 
Saviour of the world. It needed his reappearance to the band 
of the faithful, his triumphant ascension to the skies, — to the 
throne of glory, — it needed all this to make the work complete. 
He has thus sanctified matter, and brought it into union with 
spirit. The body is no more altogether an enemy of the soul, 
but a companion that parts company a while, to be restored and 
retained in everlasting bonds, in a higher and perfect state. 
The bliss of the sainted ones is to be enhanced thereby ; such 
companionship is to add to their power, their glory, and their 
joy. We may not tell in just what way this will be accom- 
plished. We cannot understand the glory of the glorified, 
while shut in by the walls of mortality and carnality ; we can- 
32 



498 ABGUMENT FROM THE CHRYSALIS. 

not appreciate the beauty of those beautified ones upon whom 
the brightness of the " beatific vision " is constantly beaming 
— those who reflect continually the beauty of the Eternal. 
We cannot comprehend the power that will be exercised, that 
will be consequent upon the combination of a perfect body and 
pure spirit ; neither can we, as we have elsewhere said, trace 
the relation between the earthly and the heavenly, the mate- 
rial and the spiritual. 

We declare the present life to be an earnest of a future 
one — that it involves strong presumptive proof of a continued 
state of existence when we have passed the suburbs of time, 
and emerged into the unknown. In like manner we look to 
the body for the appearance of that germ which will unfold 
itself perfectly, when every adverse element will be dropped, 
and it be no more subject to the varying atmosphere of earth. 
Suppose we see not the germ. It does not necessarily follow 
that it is not there. Supposing we could see it, but could not 
divine the process of expansion, — it would by no means fol- 
low as a thing of certainty, that it is impossible. 

Looking upon the chrysalis, we could never tell how a 
golden-winged butterfly is to come forth, spreading itself, 
and mounting in the free air. Before it was a worm, trailing 
itself in a dusty path on the ground, with not the least shadow 
of probability, apparently, that a brilliant destiny awaited it. 
Nevertheless, it carried in the foldings of its inner self the 
germ of its future life — a higher and more expansive one. 
We acknowledge the fact, but we cannot tell how or why it 
is ; it is a strange and curious process that the Creator himself 
instituted ; and we can only wonder and admire. We award 
all the honor and skill here to the Divine. We must do it ; 
for there is not a single result in all the departments of human 
effort that at all compares with it. It defies imitation ; it 
stands alone — the work of God. 

Shall we acknowledge a power equal to the production of 
this in spheres infinitely below us, and shall we not recognize 



ARGUMENT FROM THE SEED. 



499 



the same as adequate to produce a similar change in the present 
though unpromising structure of our own bodies ? We slowly 
measure our steps upon this terrestrial vale, and at last " wrap 
the drapery of our couch about us, and lie down " in the stillness 
and silence of the grave, and the sceptic says, it is the end ; 
possibilities cease upon a broken stem. There is no grafting 
of life upon death, no evolving of fire when the embers have lost 
every spark of vitality. Looking with an eye of sense, such is 
the conclusion we might expect. There is, indeed, little evi- 
dence to such, that the decaying form, hid away under its earthly 
covering, will one day be restored, a glorious and spiritual body, 
to mount in the clear air of purer skies, and revel in the delights 
of a new existence-— a more exalted position. It needs the 
eye of faith to see this ; it needs the believing heart to embrace 
this; for we are told it by "oracles," and are not to have the 
sight until we burst the cerements of the tomb, and rise, " in new- 
ness of life," to another sphere. The change is great from a 
creeping, forbidding worm to a gorgeous-winged creature soar- 
ing aloft in the sunlight, or reposing in the bosom of flowers ; 
but the contrast is infinitely greater between a poor, helpless, 
and powerless subject of probation, and the same one free, 
strong, joyous, exulting in a higher life, and in being clad in 
the paraphernalia of heaven. 

Sacred lore, too, has been found in the field of the husband- 
man, in the grains he scattereth with his hand. There, too, is 
a finger pointing to the skies, saying, That which thou sowest 
will appear again in richness and plenteousness in God's harvest 
and on his plains. " As the germ in spring time emerges in 
vigor and beauty from the bosom of the rotting seed, so there 
arises ever out of decay the joyous infancy of immortal life. 
That which fades and turns to dust in autumn becomes the 
fertilizer that feeds those germs which its decay leaves untouched 
behind it. As long as we see that, in the place where the 
faded flower grew, there appears the better and more substantial 
fruit, we have the sweet assurance that the garlands and buds 



500 



ARGUMENT FROM REVIVAL IN SPRING. 



of promise, which seem to perish around the tomb of human 
glory, will be succeeded by the rich fruition of an imperishable 
life." Thus life follows death everywhere. Thus in all these 
things is there a hidden germ, from which springs a rich and 
beautiful harvest. 

The sap which descends into the roots of the tree in the 
autumn, causing apparent death, reascends in the spring to 
clothe the sere and leafless branches with new beauty and vital- 
ity, and it scarcely seems to us reclining under its grateful 
shade in the noonday heat of a summer sun, that it is the same 
which stood bereft and solitary but a few short months before ; 
and yet it is. This is a process of nature, and we have so many 
times seen it repeated, it has lost its strangeness and novelty. 
The Christian who recognizes a Fathers hand in all things, 
loves to dwell upon these changes, as proofs of the divine love 
and care. But why so much difference between sense and faith? 
Is it not as easy to believe that the same power which renews 
the trees of the forest, which reclothes them each successive 
year, will, from the lifeless form that sleeps in the dust, bring 
forth a new, beautiful, and spiritual body, to rejoice in a new 
existence, to accomplish a glorious destiny? 

The flowering shrub which succumbs to the early frost lies 
prostrate, with the life-principle apparently extinct, and thus 
remains until the warm breath of a May-day sun touches the 
hidden springs, and reveals a source of life. Then the buds 
begin to swell and unfold, the flowers to expand in all their 
beauty and sweetness. It is, as it were, a new creation ; yet 
the germ of this has been preserved in its wintry grave, and 
from this the fair blossoms have sprung. Is there nothing in 
this to tell us of a future glorified body ? 

Does it not afford evidence — presumptive it may be — yet 
grateful, that the tomb will yield its trust as the nucleus of 
something new and better? "God giveth a body, as it hath 
pleased him." The proof is not from analogy merely. We 
love the intimations from this source ; we cherish them, we clasp 



ARGUMENT FROM REVELATION. 



501 



them to our bosoms, we weave them into our souls as the pre- 
cious and sacred woof of our eternal destiny ; but it is God's word 
that constitutes the warp. Nature has a texture of immortality, 
but it takes inspiration to complete the web, to impart the neces- 
sary quality and finish. But to observe analogy once more, and 
that to which the thoughtful mind of the apostle was drawn, 
the seed is scattered broadcast over the field ; it decays, is 
resolved into its constituent elements ; but from the general dis- 
solution there arises a rich and waving harvest — not the same 
grain, indeed, that was deposited in the earth, but a conse- 
quence of it. There is an important, a vital relation, we know. 
There could not have been the life, the new up-rising, without 
the death. Herein is the condition of growth and develop- 
ment, the secret of new evolution. Like to this may be the 
relation between the natural and the spiritual or glorified body. 
That which is committed to the grave returns to the earth as 
it was, having no more affinity with the laws of life ; but, like 
the decaying seed, it has a relation to what shall be. K The old 
body is just as necessary to the new as the old decaying grain is 
to the new plant, and to the new seed." 

" That which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that 
shall be, but bare grain ; it may chance of wheat, or of some 
other grain : but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, 
and to every seed his own body." " That is," says Harbaugh, 
"the same body which its predecessor had, or the body which 
belongs to its kind. The comparison between the body that is 
sown and the body which shall be, does not seem to be between 
the seed in the earth and the stalk that grows from it, but rather 
between the seed that is in the earth and that which is formed 
on the top of the stalk — the history of the stalk being regarded 
as the intervening transformation period. Thus, as the seed in 
the earth, in time, repeats itself in the new seed, so the analogy 
requires us to think that the form of the celestial body will 
preserve the image of the body which has perished in the grave. 
The Saviour appeared after his resurrection in a body which 



502 



GLORY OF THE SPIRITUAL BODY. 



presented the same outward appearance as that in which he 
dwelt among his disciples before his death, and which enabled 
them to recognize him by those marks of identity by which they 
knew him before. Moses and Elias, on the mount of trans- 
figuration, evidently appeared in bodies fashioned after that type 
which is familiar to us here. 

" We assume, then, that the apparent import of some passages 
and phrases of Scripture tends to suggest the belief that the die 
of human nature, as to its form and figure, is to be used in a 
new world. Partly on the ground of inferences from general 
principles, and partly on the strength of particular assertions, 
we suppose that the fair and faultless paradisaical model of hu- 
man beauty and majesty, which stood forward as the illustrious 
instance of creative wisdom — the bright gem of the visible 
world — this form too, which has been born and consecrated by 
incarnate Deity, it shall at length regain its forfeited honors, 
and once more be pronounced ? very good ; 9 so good as to 
forbid its being superseded ; yea more, that it shall be rein- 
stated, and allowed, after its long degradation, to enjoy its 
birthright of immortality." 

Who can put on a sad countenance, and speak in desponding 
tones of the great change that is coming, that is inevitable to 
every one of the human species ? Surely it is not becoming to the 
Christian thus to demean himself when every step of his prog- 
ress is from glory to glory. The change is, indeed, great for 
him, but it is also glorious. It is transformation, but upon 
every feature of it is written exaltation in living characters. 
The blessed perfection, he will know in the world of light, will 
most emphatically be unlike the imperfection he once knew, the 
joyous freedom very different from his former bondage, and 
all his relations in striking and delightful contrast with all that 
was previously known. A body that pleases God must be 
transcendently glorious — a structure of inconceivable beauty ; 
and such have all his saints. Whatever pleases God will please 
them ; therefore, what harmony and appreciation will exist 
among the yanks of the blessed ! 



SIN REPRESSES MORAL POWER. 



503 



There will be no disturbing influences to affect those refined 
organizations ; nothing can deface the " image of the heavenly," 
for the source of its brightness is ever present to keep it un- 
dimmed forever. There is no friction — no blight — no decay- 
to come near the glorified bodies which the ransomed possess. 
"What, then, will be their power? While within the precincts 
of mortality, the spirit is repressed in its efforts, restrained 
in its endeavors, by the influence of encircling matter ; but in 
the land of immortality it shall be different — spirit shall 
triumph over everything else — it will be supreme. If it have 
a "body," this will aid the spirit effectually in all its move- 
ments and designs — it will be no limitation, no restraint 
whatever. All that is conceived in the idea of freedom will be 
realized in the union ; and, all that we can associate with the 
idea of power is experienced also. It is sin that prevents the 
harmonizing of the elements of power in this world — that hin- 
ders the efficiency of concentrated forces in worthy and benevo- 
lent enterprises — that throws difficulties and obstacles in the 
way of the chariot of salvation, and before those whose guiding 
hand would make a way for it in all the earth. It is sin that 
makes the individual so powerless in vanquishing the foes which 
threaten his destruction, that makes him so weak when assailed 
by those that are ever lying in wait to entice him away from the 
path of self-denial, which must be traversed to get to the Holy 
City, and toward which he is looking, half wishing that he 
were there. 

It is sin that keeps one so long halting w between two opinions," 
causing him to lie down on an uneasy couch, and awake to a 
restless knowledge day by day, without the power to throw down 
the burden and escape from the pressure. 

It is sin that prevents the wavering one from breaking over 
the customs and prejudices of an " evil and gainsaying world," 
from laying aside its trammels and chains, with a fixed and final 
determination to be henceforth guided by the Infinite One — to 
be influenced by considerations above and beyond all that is 



504 SPIRITUAL POWER PERFECT IN HEAVEN. 



earthly and transitory. In these workings of sin there is a 
want of moral power. In the decision involving obedience 
there is a divinely granted power. In the determination to 
live a life of faith, and walk in the ways of holiness, a power 
is delegated from above. But there is a painful deficiency in 
this power while wielded by fleshly weapons — not in the thing 
itself, but from a want where it falls. Power, as such, in its 
fullest and richest extent, its varied and all-conquering nature, 

— we mean, as God-communicated, — is found alone in heaven, 
in the glorified bodies of the redeemed. Creature-power cul- 
minates there. The disturbing forces of sin are never present 
to distract and confound, to cause a failure in the slightest 
decree. His chosen ones even reisfn — though with the mild- 
est authority, yet most potent in sway — they are " kings and 
priests " there, and exercise most benignant rule over all, in the 
sphere to which they are called. 

The soul naturally loves power ; it craves it, seeks it some- 
times, yea, oftentimes, for base ends ; but rightly seeking it 
from holiest motive, it shall be given, even in this life, as an 
earnest of that which shall be vested in the glorified being here- 
after. That which is " sown in weakness " will be " raised in pow- 
er." This will be an element of the spiritual being, and not to 
be comprehended in its blissful application now ■ — power, it may 
be, to go to the ends of the earth on the holiest errand, on 
the most loving missions ; power, it may be, to go to other 
worlds to tell of love divine, love redeeming — to witness won- 
derful displays of creative skill ; power, it may be, to plan and 
execute great and noble deeds ; but, at least, a power to do God's 
will and pleasure forever. And is not this an inexpressible de- 
light, O Christian, encompassed with the infirmities of the flesh, 
struggling with sin, and longing to be free from its entanglements- 

— with a desire that excels all others in strength and constancy ? 
Paul often paused in his journey to the heavenly Canaan to mourn 
over the hinderances interposed by a body of sin and death ; 
lamented the poor ability within himself to work out the noble 



POWER AND GLORY OF THE SPIRITUAL BODY. 505 



purposes of a spiritual mind ; and among the brightest anticipa- 
tions which he indulged of his future home and rest were the pow- 
er and freedom secured by the absence of all sin — the power 
that he should have in his glorified and immortal body. This was 
associated in his mind with the " victory " of which he trium- 
phantly spoke, toward the close of his mortal life, when he was 
laying down the weapons with which he had successfully fought, 
for the full enjoyment of peace in the promised land. So, too, 
have Christians in all ages exulted in the prospect. 

But the body is not only w raised in power," — it is " raised in 
glory " also ; and how expressive this word as used by the sacred 
writers ! — not beauty, not excellence simply, but glory, tran- 
scendent brightness, a brilliancy surpassing mortal conception. 

Who can tell the meaning of the Scripture phrase, "full of 
glory," or comprehend what was intended by " glory, honor, and 
immortality," or analyze and bring out plain to the understand- 
ing what it is to be " glorified with him," even Christ ? These 
are things to be learned in God's eternal school, under his direct 
and blessed teaching ; these are things to be observed when, 
standing in the holy ranks, the brightness of the heavenly host is 
everywhere reflected. Fashioned like unto the glorious body of 
Christ is the promise ; his body is the pattern ; and what ideas 
does it suggest of beauty and symmetry, of fitness and perfection ! 

" His face did shine as the sun," in the days of his incarnation, 
when " he was transfigured before " the three disciples, and the 
heavenly manifestations so attracted them that they would fain 
dwell continually amid such glory. After his death, they were 
found ever rehearsing, with fresh interest, to wondering circles, 
the glory they had beheld in the victim of the cross — the con- 
queror of Death — the Redeemer of mankind. The so-called 
" beloved " saw glory as he leaned upon the loving bosom, and 
looked into the unfathomable depths of those eyes that beamed 
upon him ; and afterward the concentrated light, in vision, over- 
came his senses, and made him insensible to all things save a 
divine radiance that exceeded that of the sun, shining in his 



506 



THE GLORIFIED BODY. 



strength. The person of Jesus was always luminous — it was 
a living exhibition of a glory not of this world ; and when the 
future body shall be fashioned like unto his, then, indeed, shall 
be realized all that is said concerning the faithful ones shining 
like suns and stars in the kingdom of the Father. 

"When the soul is in heaven," said an ancient Jew, "it is 
clothed with celestial light ; when it returns to the body, it 
shall have the same light ; and then the body shall shine like 
the splendor of the firmament of heaven." There are often 
bright, shining beams in the soul of man, that never find their 
way out through the fleshly veil. They illuminate the inner 
chambers, and discover, it may be, many things to the man ; 
but it is as if close shutters were between himself and others ; 
it is as if a cloud hung over the fair prospect, obscuring its 
brightness, and hiding it from the general gaze. 

The body here is a gross medium through which the spirit- 
glory does not manifest itself. The world is all unconscious 
of much of the beauty that lies blooming on Christian soil, 
within the mind's own gates. It is shut out, nay, shut in, by 
a living barrier ; but in the glorified state it will not be so — 
there " the spirit shines out through a body which its own 
glory makes transparent. The glorified body will be the com- 
plete outward manifestation of the glorified soul." 

The invisible gives place to the visible, and clouds and dark- 
ness no more hide, or obscure in any sense, the brightness of 
the soul ; for that " which is perfect is come." The beauty of 
holiness expands into glory, revealing itself in the sun-lit 
countenances of the ransomed, becoming the unutterable, the 
inexpressible of our present ideas. As Christ was "altogether 
lovely," so will also the glorified saint be in the day of final 
resurrection ; for he has bathed himself in the clear stream 
issuing from Calvary, and come forth with neither a spot, nor a 
stain, nor a blemish. He bears the likeness of the Saviour — 
that perfect and satisfying likeness which so many have cov- 
eted to possess. In what strange contrast will that be with 



CRYSTALLINE SOCIETIES OF HEAVEN. 507 



the image of the earthly — that image so often marred and 
defaced by the marks of sin — that image in which it was 
often so difficult to trace the lineaments of the Divine ! How 
different will be the glorified body from that miserable, pain- 
distressed form which disease crushed, until no more remained 
for it but to moulder in the dust, an inanimate and lifeless 
thing ! The one is unsightly and forbidding ; the other im- 
mortal, beautiful, yea, glorious, reflecting the indescribable 
glory of the Eternal, and bearing about with it the unearthly 
lustre of the skies. 

" There is a process known familiarly to the chemist as crys- 
tallization, and it is produced sometimes by the action of the 
solar rays. Let the liquid mass which holds the particles in 
solution be placed in the light, and lucid points shoot here and 
there, around which every luciform atom arranges itself in 
beautiful transparencies, and is no longer a component of the 
residual mass. Even so it is when Christ touches the souls of 
his own people with light. Death dissolves our weak and suf- 
fering humanity, breaks up the societies and families of earth, 
and pours the individual atoms disintegrated into the spirit- 
realm. But all whose qualities are luciform there move obe- 
dient to the touch of the solar rays, are separated from the 
residual portion, and formed into gems that become radiant in 
the eternal splendors. Thus the crystalline societies of heaven 
are arranged. Thus all which the Father gives to the Son 
shall be raised up again at the last day." Thus meditates a 
modern writer upon this subject. It is true that the varied 
representations of Scripture, which leave nothing untouched, 
do warrant the idea of crystalline glories ; but it is also true 
that no illustration or analogy is equal to a full and just por- 
trayal of that body's appearance which shall emerge, finished 
and glorious, from the hands of the Redeemer to occupy the 
place assigned it, to perform the functions appointed it at the 
right hand of God in the heavenly world. 

What a halo of light, then, encircles the grave when we lay 



508 TEE SPIRITUAL BODY INCORRUPTIBLE. 



down the lifeless forms of our beloved ones, our Christian 
friends, there ! What a cheerful radiance does hope throw 
around that dark place — that dismal mansion ! What is laid 
there helpless shall be w raised in power," " in glory." They 
sleep ; but they shall awake — awake to a beauty that will 
never decay, a freshness that will ever remain, and the enjoy- 
ment of a rest that will never be disturbed. They shall awake 
to the full realization of all the blessedness of immortality. 
With this knowledge, why mourn, with grief inconsolable, 
because those we love have found sweet rest a little sooner 
than we ? because they are encompassed with glory, and walk 
in the light a little before us? Let imagination follow the 
worn and wasted body to its final destination, to the time 
when the elements will be gathered that will produce the glo- 
rified structure, and behold it " clothed upon " with that which 
is from heaven ; and say, does it not seem a legacy of priceless 
value ? Does it not seem fit to be employed in the service of 
Him who is perfect, and " exalted above all gods " ? Surely 
blessed and glorious is the Christian's destiny ! 

But there is another excellence of the body that is to be 
given — it is incorruptible. Great power and glory might be 
given it for a period, and then withdrawn, thus making the 
boon of questionable value ; it might flourish, and become 
potent, and then become dim and disarmed ; but these are not 
the conditions that are observed in the economy of God — the 
power and the glory are both to be stronger and brighter, 
receiving new accessions forever. " I neither know dimi- 
nution nor decay " is the sentence inscribed upon all the 
treasures which the saints possess ; it is that which is writ- 
ten in legible characters upon every one of those who are 
glorified. Things are reversed in heaven. Whatever dwells 
there is incorruptible. From the very beginning of ex- 
istence in this world, the frail tenement which the spirit 
occupies is subject to a thousand adverse influences that 
conspire to produce its fall. The stormy winds of passion 



THE BODY HERE CORRUPTIBLE. 509 



sweep over it, and the weak foundations totter at their base. 
Toil imposes her burden with the ability to remove the sup- 
porting pillars. Grief enters and makes the whole structure 
tremble. 

But if toil and sorrow be kept at a distance, disease, either 
suddenly or slowly, undermines the residence of the spirit, and 
it falls, a hopeless and ruined mass, not to be rebuilt in time. 

Here and there are seen the premonitions of decay where it 
grieves us sorely to behold them — in places where we had 
long hoped to sit calmly and securely in the quiet enjoyment 
of the shelter afforded. We see one thing after another fail 
in the structure which has been the delight of our eyes and the 
joy of our hearts, and every removal causes the deepest pain ; it 
awakens the feeling — which we hesitate to embody in words — 
that we are inevitably hastening to decay. Such is the truth. 
Corruption waits to embrace us : but — there is still another 
truth — so does incorruption. The glorified body is incorrup- 
tible ; it shall never grow old, never decay, never fall, never be 
weary. It shall be unceasingly active, and everlastingly capable 
of activity. Disease, toil, and grief, with their destructive 
power, are unknown by those who have "crossed the flood." 
O, what a body is that which will never know decay in any of 
its powers, or weariness in any of its forms ! The foundations 
of that body stand sure, for they are laid on the Rock which 
never fails ; the superstructure is raised by the infinite and 
almighty Architect, and the adornments are made by the di- 
vine and inimitable Artist. Behold, then, what beauty appears 
in the incorruptible body ! what glory ! Every step heightens 
the sublimity. As the rapt beholder, looking abroad from lofty 
mountain on the glowing landscape, cannot find words to ex- 
press the emotion it inspires, so we, standing upon these high 
places and looking out upon the transporting scene, cannot 
speak those things which the eye of faith discerns. They are 
among the objects indescribable by mortal tongue ; they enkin- 
dle devotion and awaken longings, but their power is unmeas- 



510 



THE BODY FETTERING TEE SOUL. 



ured by words ; they must be seen to be known — be felt to be 
realized. 

" Father, how wide thy glory shines ! 
How high thy wonders rise ! 
Known through the earth by thousand signs, 
By thousands through the skies." 

Yea, an "innumerable company" of the glorified ones "try 
their choicest strains " in attempts for a worthy celebration of 
these things, and yet fail to give full expression, such as the 
glory demands. They wonder and gaze through all eternity, 
and still originate new songs in honor of the ever-unfolding 
glories that rise upon them. But, once more, it is ours to 
anticipate a "spiritual body," an organism refined above all 
our present power of comprehension, — not something of the 
nature of pure spirit, for this would utterly absorb all idea of 
body, but a material frame entirely free from everything that 
is earthly and sensual, fitted so as to be fully under the domin- 
ion of spirit, and the spirit not under bondage to it. In this 
life the animal body is exacting, all-controlling. It must, it 
will be obeyed, or cripple, if not entirely prevent, the opera- 
tions of the mind. 

Although the noble aspirations of an individual soul rise su- 
perior to the demands of the body for a season, and the higher 
nature receive exclusive attention, yet in a very little while 
it is forced to yield, and come down to minister unto the lower 
nature. The body and its necessities triumph over mind, and 
bring it into unwilling subjection. This will not be when 
the spiritual body shall come forth from God's crucible at the 
last, purified from all dross, to shine a pure and perfect gem 
forever in the place where He keeps his jewels. There will 
be no base dependence, no coercion or extortion, but ever a 
voice from the willing body, saying, as it were, to every motion 
of the holy soul, I stand to fulfil thy pleasure — I wait to do 
thy bidding. 

In the days of the flesh sin maintained an unequal connec- 
tion ; but the enemy is removed, and harmony restored ; there- 



THE SPIRITUAL BODY AN AUXILIARY. 511 



fore in the land of the spiritual the right prevails, the highest 
reigns. There are no more heart-regrets because the sensual 
usurps the prerogative and lords it over the soul. Spirit finds 
its own power, its native element, in the celestial state ; it 
meets its true conditions, revels in a congenial atmosphere, and 
lives on its appropriate and necessary aliment, and the body to 
which it is united is, in all things and everywhere, a desirable 
and important auxiliary. 

The Divine Spirit permeates the whole, filling with light and 
love, overshadowing each with a glory surpassing that which 
came down between the cherubim in days of old, shedding a 
radiance clearer and softer than that which filled the holy place 
when the Anointed passed in, and heaven and earth met in his 
presence. The indwelling of the Spirit purifies the body even 
here, making it more lovely and refined than before. What a 
contrast between one cherishing the heavenly visitant and one 
whose bosom is a stranger to the hallowed company ! 

The countenance of the former is lighted with sacred peace ; 
love kindles in his eye, and every feature is expressive of joyful 
emotion. The warring passions are at rest, and the serene look 
is an index of the tranquil mind within — a mind that acts, 
or seeks to act, in harmony with God ; that soars up to the 
Infinite, and lingers where the fountain flows that springs from 
beneath the throne of God. The whole nature is elevated ; the 
affections are sanctified, and nothing expresses the whole but a 
new creation — the passing away of old things and the insti- 
tution of new. Every department of thought and feeling is 
lighted from above, and the whole is overarched by a bow of 
promise that tells of wondrous pledges concerning loving care 
and protection on the way hence— -the way to heaven. Such 
are the power and influence of God's Spirit in the hearts of the 
children of men below. It effects regeneration ; and if such is 
its manifestation here, — so blessed and glorious, — what may 
we not expect when it shall have full sway in the glorified body 
of the saint? In view of this, well might the apostle exult in 



512 



THE GLORY OF THE SPIRITUAL. 



hope of a spiritual body. That which is implied in the spir- 
itual is full of joy to the Christian — the very word has a charm. 
His watchings and his prayers, his fastings and his tears, all tend 
to this in the days of his pilgrimage ; they have this for their 
object, their aim. This is the goal to which holy ambition 
always turns ; for this Christians willingly die. The purely 
spiritual dwells inside the golden gates of the New Jerusalem. 
Those who walk there have glorified bodies — bodies in which 
are vested power, honor, and glory ; bodies that are incorrupti- 
ble and spiritual ; and those who have the requisite seal will yet 
pass in, and receive for their everlasting service these same 
glorious vestments, that are not made after any human pattern, 
but with devices wrought out by the King of kings — - the 
Lord of heaven. This, O Christian, belongs to thine in- 
heritance ! 



GOD'S WORKS AND WAYS. 



513 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SPIRIT GLORIFIED. 

The Attributes of God's Nature warrant Glorification to the Christian. — 
Besults expected from the Union of Love and Power. — The Senses glori- 
fied. — The mental and moral elevated. — Mutual Interest of the Saints. 
— Glory waits for the Believer. 

"When, as Justice has long since decreed, 
This earth shall blaze, and a new world succeed, 
Then these, thy glorious works, and they who share 
That hope, which can alone exclude despair, 
Shall live, exempt from weakness and decay, 
The brightest wonders of an endless day." — Cowper. 

God has a way of his own ; and if parts of it are myste- 
riously shrouded in darkness, the end thereof is clear and lumi- 
nous. Whenever he works, results appear worthy of the work- 
man. They are peculiarly his own. No possible combination 
of energy, skill, or cunning among mankind can approximate 
in any measure toward the accomplishment of anything that at 
all compares with the minutest object he speaks into birth, or 
the most trifling exhibition of his illimitable power. 

A prophet left the cave of his retirement, to which his jeal- 
ous spirit had driven him, and stood forth to behold the divine 
manifestation which he was assured would pass before him in 
the solitary place of nature ; and as he stood, he saw the mighty 
earthquake, and felt the mountain blast sweep by, and wrap- 
ping " his face in his mantle," he trembled at even the " still 
small voice " that followed ; for he had read a lesson of the 
power of the Most High, and a sense of his awful majesty had 
33 



514 



GOD'S ATTRIBUTE OF LOVE. 



penetrated his soul, and filled him with the deepest humility. 
When God passes through the material world, he leaves the 
impress of his footsteps everywhere ; so when he diffuses him- 
self through the soul, there is glory in the train. Such power 
is not exerted with slight effect — it tells mightily where it falls 
— tells as a renewing, recreative force, or as one that hardens 
and petrifies to a fearful extent. The Almighty hath "yoked the 
whirlwinds to his car," and ridden forth in his might ; and at his 
coming the valleys have arisen in their strength, and the moun- 
tains retired from sight, reversing the long-maintained order, 
making " the rough places plain, and the crooked straight." 
These are the doings of power, and call us to consider the 
mighty and ever-available resources of the great"! AM"— 
Him who sitteth upon the throne, and "doeth according to 
his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of 
the earth." 

But there is another aspect in which things may be viewed ; 
another stand-point, from which we may look out over a ver- 
dant landscape, smiling in its loveliness, for the gratification of 
the soul of man. 

A great people once left the galling yoke of their oppressors, 
and went forth, through deserts and many a wilderness, toward 
a land of freedom, of which they had heard. A "fiery, cloudy 
pillar " shielded them, and beckoned them on, by day and by 
night ; the river parted to furnish them a pathway to the regions 
of safety ; water gushed from the rock to cool the fever that 
was upon them ; heaven-descending manna satisfied their hun- 
ger, and when this failed, flocks of birds hovered around their 
tents for their pleasure. Thus did the omniscient eye follow 
them in their wanderings with loving interest, watching with 
tenderest care to promote their weal, and averting long the im- 
pending woe. When Love divine broods over the earth, the 
very elements are God's ministers of good and happiness to 
man. Showers descend, rich in blessing ; and all along the 
path through the wilderness of mortality are places where we 



THE SOUL TRANSFORMED BY LOVE. 



515 



may pause to erect our Ebenezers, saying, as we do so, Hith- 
erto hath the Lord most lovingly helped us. We find tables 
spread in the desert, whereon royal dainties are placed, by the 
side of which a banner waves in the breeze, bearing the invi- 
tation, "Come, eat at my table/' — "Partake of my bounty, 
t without money and without price.' " This is love — it presides 
in the councils of the Eternal, and the statutes sanctioned 
there have direct reference to the well-being of men. 

Trace its effects upon single souls. Entering into the inner 
circles of being, it exercises most benignant sway. The proud 
become humble, the arrogant meek, the stubborn yielding, the 
scoffer reverential, the selfish benevolent, the careless thought- 
ful ; indeed, there is a change in every thought, purpose, and 
feeling ; it constitutes the Christian ; it makes the seeming 
victim of destruction an heir to eternal life ; it is marvellous 
in working, leading the soul into sympathy with the Eternal. 
This is the legitimate effect of the heavenly principle, when 
God unveils this attribute of his nature, and allows its melt- 
ing influences to fall upon the human soul. It is as when the 
genial sun of spring looks upon the ice-bound streams, and 
the rigid chains unclasp, and the dancing waters leap and 
sparkle in their freedom, making music as they flow. 

It is God's work — his work of love. Power and love are 
then attributes of his nature ; and what may we not expect as 
the offspring of these? We have seen somewhat of their 
wonderful and beneficent effects as displayed on the theatre of 
time, and we have stood in silence before the august appearance. 
We have stood by the sacred altar of the human heart, and 
witnessed the conversion of flinty adamant into the softest and 
most pliable substance, upon which heavenly impressions are 
made by a single touch of the divine hand, and we have said 
within ourselves, that such power and love, acting together, 
must be fully equal to the great changes which inspiration 
declares shall take place, but which some seem disposed to 
regard as incredible. That something better is provided for 



516 



GLORIFICATION HEREAFTER. 



the faithful, is what we might reasonably expect while contem- 
plating the loving power which forms the basis of action in the 
wise Governor of the universe. From this point it almost 
seems natural to anticipate a glorified body ; but if the grosser 
receive a glorification, then much more surely that which is 
highest of all. It is a still higher point in heavenly blessed- 
ness than we have yet reached, to stand on " Mount Zion," 
with the "spirits of the just made perfect," and witness the 
glory manifest in this direction. What idea can we have of a 
glorified spirit? It were comparatively easy to magnify and 
multiply ideas and conceptions, until we have some faint im- 
pression of a refined and spiritual body; but they prove an 
utterly powerless medium in transmitting the light which beams 
from a glorified spirit. We have some glimpses of the celes- 
tial radiance that betoken an unearthly glory ; but there are 
scales to fall, and veils to be removed, before "it shall appear 
what we shall be." 

God is a spirit, encircled by the blazing splendors of the 
eternal throne, and that glory is to be reflected from the spirit 
of the saints ; and then shall be fulfilled the complete life of the 
soul which the Redeemer died to accomplish. 

When the spirit resigns itself to the supreme guidance of the 
Most High upon earth, there begins the life of grace within, 
the earnest of good that is yet to come ; but the conditions of 
the mundane state are opposed to a full unfolding, and it is only 
a sickly growth that is attained here, at best. There are 
many limitations and restrictions imposed by the animal and 
sensual ; there is ever a retarding influence to prevent the ex- 
pansion of that bud which struggles for the full blossom. 

Grace prepares the heart-soil and makes it rich, so as to 
facilitate the growth of that which is implanted ; but worms at 
the root eat out the life, and prevent the vigor, so that, instead 
of the green and flourishing stalk bearing leaves and flowers, there 
is a dry and unsightly prospect oftentimes. There may be water- 
ing and pruning, careful culture, but it does not yield so full a 



GOD'S LOVE WARRANTS GLORIFICATION. 517 



return as the watcher desires. This is characteristic of the 
Christian principle in the soul. The atmosphere of earth is not 
congenial to it ; it never does reach perfection in this changeful 
and ungenial clime ; but there are cheering intimations that ap- 
propriate conditions will reveal a beauty which before has been 
concealed. The beginnings of grace in the heart are like a bud 
more and more beautiful in its unfolding ; but here the analogy 
fails. The bud of a rose has more of beauty while peeping out 
from its mossy covering than when it lays this aside in its full 
bloom ; but not so with Christian character. The matured 
graces of the spirit are more lovely than the first promise. Now 
and then we see them brought to a higher state of perfection 
than is wont, and conclude they must arrest the attention of the 
Heavenly Gardener who will have the fairest plants to enrich 
his own borders — who would have the richest fragrance for his 
own pleasure. Many plants do not show their capability until 
they are transplanted ; others, not until they are brought into 
connection with some others : emphatically is this true with the 
Christian. Not until within the borders of the celestial garden 
is he conscious of the power of the living germ that he tended 
below ; not until he is sensible of his glorified surroundings will 
he awake to the full consciousness of what it will be to have in 
possession a glorified spirit. The conditions of the one are 
necessary to the existence of the other. A perfect spirit must 
have a perfect body. This, we have seen, is the legacy of the 
saints ; and we turn from the consideration of it to the question 
of what is involved in the spirit-condition that is called glorified. 
Vastly more, we are aware, than we can comprehend. The 
philosophy of the human mind is intricate and strange to us 
now. With all our effort we cannot define the boundaries which 
separate the realms of matter and spirit. We cannot tell just 
the ground on which the senses play, and have therefore created 
a w transition state," through which they may pass and repass, 
now traversing the regions of the mental, and anon those of the 
physical, belonging equally to both. Sensation and perception 



518 



VALUE OF TEE SENSES. 



meet and exchange sympathies — we know not how. Imagina- 
tion steps in and asserts their connection with the moral nature ; 
and plainly observing effects that we cannot gainsay, we ac- 
knowledge a union, and recognize their right .to live in close 
embrace, though at the same time we cannot forbear to give 
utterance to the words upon our lips that savor of mystery. 

That these faculties of sense belong in a measure to soul is 
evident, and therefore they must survive the grave, and enter 
into the composition of the glorified structure, forming an es- 
sential part of that new life which those are to live who have 
taken on the likeness of Christ. They are servants that cannot 
well be dispensed with even on the highest plane of existence 
that is revealed. They are called in requisition by those who 
stand " exalted on the everlasting hills," gazing and shouting 
because of the sights and sounds that greet their vision and fill 
their souls. " The spirit is dependent upon the senses very 
much as the tree or plant is upon its roots. The senses are 
the adits of knowledge, as well as the avenues by which innu- 
merable exquisite sensations, perceptions, and emotions are 
produced in the spirit." 

They are intrusted with a large portion of our happiness in 
this life, and they may not cease their ministrations to the being 
that is glorified. God will in no wise deprive the soul of any- 
thing that will in any way increase its satisfaction. Such, 
indeed, might be the conditions of the glorified being as to 
render these agents wholly unnecessary ; but God does not 
always act according to possibilities. There are thousands of 
instances under his government where things might have been 
different ; but he chose they should not be. Death might be 
the destruction of the senses, but it is very evident that it is not 
so. Sensation and perception go with us, our companions to 
the eternal world, and they stay with us forever, in that scene 
that knows no changing. Jesus himself is represented as look- 
ing upon the children of men, as feeling for them, as being 
" touched with the feeling of our infirmities " — a circumstance 



PERFECTION OF THE SENSES. 



519 



that is taken as the ground of a probability that senses are not 
unknown in the spirit-world ; and if not, then they exist in un- 
told perfectness. The refined senses of a spiritual body must 
stand in blessed relation to a glorified spirit. One thing, then, 
involved in this latter idea is, the perfection of the senses, their 
power, refinement, and enlargement. We know that cultiva- 
tion has much to do with their expansion here ; that they reach 
a degree of sensitiveness and perfectness that is surprising even 
under the limitations of, the present life. When these are 
removed, and they act with native freedom, there w T ill be no 
restraint, no barrier in the way of continued improvement ; they 
will always be messengers of good to the happy spirit, while 
the mysteries of the philosophy of earth will be dispelled by the 
clearer philosophy of heaven. There will be no more curious 
speculation of disputed boundaries, for the undisturbed enjoy- 
ment of actual possession will preclude all necessity. The 
senses will minister to a spirit that will be too much absorbed 
in, its grateful and joyous emotions to be troubled and anxious. 
Bliss will flow in upon it from every avenue. Adoring the 
wisdom and love that bless so richly, it will drink copious and 
perpetual draughts and be satisfied. 

But, the future life is wrapped up in the folds of the present. 
All life has its beginnings here ; every one carries within himself 
the germ of what he will be ; what is capable of continued ex- 
pansion now will be capable of it to an indefinite extent here- 
after. We all know the wonderful acuteness which accompanies 
the sense of hearing in the absence of sight, and also what 
strange guests people the chambers of mind when touch drives 
her chariot thither under such circumstances. The eye also 
may be trained so as to trace objects clearly and correctly ; but 
after all, the highest degree of cultivation bestowed upon any or 
all the senses leaves the earnest soul with a humbling and 
painful sense of limitation. It yet has an idea of something 
more perfect, which it is reaching out after, and which it must 
meet, or be forever dissatisfied. The desire, coupled with the 



520 



PERFECT DELIGHT OF TEE SENSES. 



capabilities, begets a supposition that somewhere, and at some 
time, the soul will find the advantages it seems created to pos- 
sess, and there realize the full expansion of that which is here 
wrapped up in so many folds that the centre is forever hidden. 

Inspiration takes the supposition, and transforms it into a 
certainty, and the era is confidently expected to dawn, by 
every believing, hopeful one, when all fettering influences 
shall be withdrawn, and the senses become perfect instruments 
from which the spirit shall evoke delicious melody. There 
will be no discord there, no need of retuning. What a con- 
trast ! Here so much of jarring, there so much of harmony ; 
here all so limited, there all so boundless ; here so gross, there 
so refined; here so narrow, there so broad; here so uncertain, 
there ever reliable and perfect. 

Imagination cannot picture the joy consequent upon a per- 
fection of the senses, such perfection as meets in the body and 
spirit that is glorified. 

The saints will look upon "the Lamb that was slain," and 
the sight will kindle a feeling of gratitude, warm the spirit 
to holy ecstasy, and cause it to speak forth in fervent song. 
Thus all the senses may find ample sources whence they may 
be fed — whence they may be fitted for the blessed work 
assigned them in the heavenly sphere. 

What glorious appearances will greet the organ of vision in 
the world of light ! what wondrous things will be descried from 
afar, in the clear transparency of that atmosphere ! Some- 
thing of this power seems to be given to the dying, as they 
gather up their feet at the close of their mortal journey. They 
see what others who stand around them do not see ; they hear 
also what their loving watchers do not hear. The malicious 
band who surrounded the dying martyr did not behold the glo- 
rious visions that lighted up his countenance with a smile of 
triumph. He knelt, as it were, in the light of the other world ; 
he already felt the hallowed influence of the transforming 
power upon him, and it began to appear w T hat he should be. 



EARTH GLOOMY, HEAVEN GLORIOUS. 521 



Objects in this world would seem more beautiful if we could 
look at them through a different medium. They are, in a 
measure, the reflection of our own minds and hearts. We 
give them the coloring. The cloudiest days are radiant with 
light if our spirits are buoyant, if our hearts are rejoicing in 
the possession of some coveted good ; and the brightest days 
of sunshine are overcast with gloom for us, if we labor under 
the impression of evil, be it fancied or real. Sad hearts always 
see clouds of mist, and the despondent behold nothing but a 
tempestuous sign in the heavens continually. There will be 
nothing of this in the place whence all fear retires, and all 
melancholy is banished, for it is the shadows of sin that cause 
it all, and they never fall in the land of the blest. There 
the medium through which the senses play is perfect. The 
perfect eye looks upon perfect scenes, the perfect ear is re- 
galed with the harmony of perfect sounds, and so everything 
is complete in the life of the glorified. There are times and 
circumstances in which the children of this world are light- 
hearted and exultant, when they talk of days that are bright 
and sunny, of hours that are fleeting and joyous, and of 
moments that pass all too swiftly, because so richly laden 
they would retain them longer in their embrace. But these 
pass on with " remorseless tread," let us plead as we may ; 
and quite as likely in the wake of pleasure there will lin- 
ger keen-eyed Sorrow, who only waits the filling of the cup 
to dash it to the ground, a hopeless ruin. From this let 
thought take its rise to the heavenly place. There are not 
only seasons in the experience of the saints when the full tide 
of bliss is poured over their ravished senses, but there is a 
perpetual flow that knows no ebb. No gloomy clouds settle 
down upon the horizon which meets their eyes, no siren voice 
is heard that allures but to disappoint, and no ruins of fond 
expectations are seen in the whole realm. O, what blessed- 
ness waits for the glorified — for the "spirits of the just" ! 
What wonder that the gates of heaven should be opened 



522 



PERFECTION OF THE INTELLECT. 



at all ! What wonder that such glorious preparations should 
be made for the entertainment of the inglorious subjects of the 
fall ! 

What love and condescension are involved in the freeness 
of the offer — an offer that would embrace within itself the lost 
millions of our perishing race ; that would make wide the en- 
trance through the jasper walls, for their final safety and 
advantage ; that would admit them into full fellowship -. — to 
the honors and glories of the celestial court ! 

A due sense of what it is to be a glorified spirit must swell the 
bosom of the Christian with holiest anticipation. Some con- 
ception of its glory may have beamed upon the departing spirit 
of Addison, when he said, " Come, see how a Christian can 
die." He dies with glory in his soul, because Faith comes down 
to lead the way ; because Hope has lent wings by which the bright 
aerial pathway to the skies is traversed. These are God-com- 
missioned — his messengers in leading the spirit to himself, to 
the mansions he has made ready. 

But the idea of a glorified spirit involves not only the per- 
fection of the senses, but also that of the intellectual nature, 
and we soar into a higher region in the contemplation of this. 
We approach that which is kindred to the Eternal, that which 
he has selected in all the universe as the most fitting tablet 
upon which to stamp the impress of his image. It was created 
with more of God infused into it than anything else in the 
world, and had a duration ascribed to it far exceeding that of 
the globe itself. We have so used it, that the lines of the 
sacred image are almost effaced ; but sometimes musing upon 
the beauty of the original impression, we weep because it is so 
stained, and mourn because it is so faded and dim. We seek 
to restore, but find ourselves inadequate to the task. We have 
not brush, pencil, or colors wherewith to retouch and bring out 
what we have lost ; neither have we skill for so delicate a 
work. It needs — it must have — a touch from the Divine 
Artist; and, having it, the beauty reappears, the features as- 



INFLUENCE OF RELIGION UPON TEE MIND. 523 



sume their speaking radiance, the form its lovely proportions, 
and the combined result is fair to look upon. He commits it 
to our keeping, and straightway there is a change ; even our 
very breath sullies it. 

Maintain a watchful diligence, said the wise man, for here 
are the "issues of life." " Get wisdom, get understanding," 
for these are more "precious than rubies," more to be desired 
than wealth, or anything that the world, in the vast variety of 
its treasures, can afford. Those remain to enrich when these 
fail entirely ; the former bless most effectually, while the lat- 
ter accumulate but to distract, and oftentimes to curse. 
Wisdom is the glory of the intellectual nature — wisdom, in 
the broadest, gospel sense. But who does not know the diffi- 
culty that attends its acquisition in this world? Who is not 
conscious of almost insuperable obstacles in the way as he 
delves for the " hid treasures " of which he has heard ? 

There is nothing that tells so mightily on the intellect as 
religion. It is refined and exalted, ennobled and sanctified, in 
a manner and to an extent that is truly marvellous. It never 
has the lustre that properly belongs to it until the glorious ef- 
fulgence of divine wisdom encircles it. If it grovel upon the 
earth, it places the stamp of its degradation upon every act; 
if it rise toward heaven, "its native place," there, too, is a cor- 
responding impress manifest "in each event of life." Mind 
was made to reflect God ; the object of life is to burnish and 
prepare it for the diadem of J esus ; it is the work to which 
men are called. Whatever, then, contributes to the glory of 
mind sets forward this great enterprise ; whatever increases 
its power is the addition of so much that is capable of enhan- 
cing its value and its brightness, and of determining its position 
among others of various degrees of brilliancy and power. 

But we know this work is not prosecuted with constant suc- 
cess ; we know there are many, very many, things that inter- 
cept our progress, and that mind languishes, and the intellec- 
tual nature suffers. If we attempt to mix nourishing draughts 



524: 



PAUL'S CONFLICT. 



for it, they are spilled unawares ; if we seek out aliment that 
seems most befitting, the power to administer becomes feeble 
or is lost, and we mourn because of the sad failure. 

Notwithstanding vigorous exertion, the mind and heart are 
not kept as they ought to be, and the outspoken feeling of the 
Christian is sympathy with the apostle who found evil present 
with him in the hours when he was most intent upon good. 
That which he would not do was done ; while that which he 
counted most worthy and desirable was often found to be un- 
done when he reviewed his actions in the season of meditation. 
He would have mental apprehension quick to discern and ready 
to appreciate the things pertaining to the kingdom of God and 
the salvation by Jesus. He would have his spirit so bathed in 
the infinite and all-cleansing fountain that the image it ought 
to bear would be clear and distinct to himself and the world ; 
he would have his intellect powerful to discover, and mighty to 
comprehend, the things of highest moment in the days of his 
probation ; and how well he succeeded, how near he came to the 
standard before him, is seen from his own words : " Who shall 
deliver me from the body of this death ? " This is but a type 
of the conflict to which all Christians are subject. In their 
most sacred hours of devotion, when they would bow at the 
mercy-seat uninfluenced by the vanities of time and sense, when 
they would have their minds pervaded with the holy influences 
of the Divine Spirit, they find them truant to every purpose, and 
themselves unable to control the wayward thoughts. Nothing 
but incessant and thorough cultivation can prepare the heart 
for anything like a tolerable harvest of good ; and grace must 
be the instrument used from beginning to end, or this will 
utterly fail. The mental nature requires peculiar care. Every- 
thing depends upon it. To repeat what has been said before, 
"Mind makes the man." How important, then, that this part 
of man be well developed - — that due attention be given to a 
healthy growth ! We know it, we feel and acknowledge it, 
and, moreover, desire nothing more strongly than a proper 



GBOWTH AND GLORY OF THE INTELLECT. 



525 



expansion of our intellectual nature : but we see how difficult 
it is to secure it. To say nothing of the "foes within," there 
are many external hinderances that conspire to arrest progress 
in this direction : even the sin-tainted air of our earthly heritage 
is adverse to its unfolding ; and we might well despair of any- 
thing like perfection were there no better things revealed in the 
future. 

Although "encompassed with clouds," and discomfited in 
effort to make the mind what it should be, the Christian has 
yet no occasion to despair : for Faith shows, a little farther on, 
a bright day dawning, when the mental nature will be glorified 
and stand forth in strength and brightness. There will be no 
sorrow then because of fruitless effort in mental cultivation, 
for success will follow every action of the perfect spirit. 
Power will be given unto it, and every faculty will be exerted 
in making rich and high attainments in the heavenly life. 

We have elsewhere spoken of the increased facility of the 
receptive and perceptive powers when the earth-fed nature shall 
surround the royal table of the saints ; of the ease and cer- 
tainty attending the acquisition of knowledge, and of the mul- 
tiplied avenues through which it will flow into the holy soul. 
All tins belongs to the conditions of the glorified spirit ; all 
this is involved in the salvation provided by Jesus, — yea, 
more, inconceivably more ; but yet, how much lies hidden in 
this single idea ! What must it be to be in actual possession 
of the power given unto a glorified spirit, with full opportunity 
to use that power so as to reap harvests of blessedness contin- 
ually ! Think, O Christian, of what it will be to be in a world 
where, ages upon ages, the mental nature will be growing 
richer and better ; think of what it will be, during all this time, 
to be constantly soaring higher toward the heights and going 
deeper into the depths of the infinite love that planted the 
cross and built the foundations of the Holy City as a sacred 
enclosure for thyself and thy companions redeemed from the 
bondage of sin ; think what it will be to have none of the dif- 



526 



PEEFECTION OF THE MORAL NATURE. 



ficulties and distractions which a sin-enslaved body has been 
wont to feel in the days of the flesh ; and think, O think, 
that He who died to save thee will ever be at thy side to send 
from the affluence of his affection a tide of joy through all 
thy being. In this, the senses and the intellect become glori- 
fied — complete in all things, fitted for their position, for every 
new relation in the new world and the new life. God is great, 
and the works of his hands are great also. Jesus has all 
power given unto him in heaven and earth ; and behold how the 
gift is employed ! We talk about the wonders of the world, 
the giant structures men have reared, the great achievements 
they have wrought ; we record them in history, and celebrate 
them in song ; but they are lost, all lost, amid the wonders 
of grace, the displays in the sphere that is divine. What won- 
ders are the gospel scheme, the Christian system, the human 
soul, the New Jerusalem, the ultimate destiny of the believer, 
the glorified body and spirit ! 

It is the culmination of everything desirable to be set down 
in the midst of the beatitudes of heaven ; and the redeemed 
soul will ever say to itself, O, wonder of grace, that my feet 
were ever set upon Mount Zion, and drawn so near the throne 
of God ! 

But man has a threefold nature. The moral field is not yet 
surveyed in these reflections about the glorified spirit. To 
make the being complete, this, too, must be sanctified, and come 
into harmony with the rest ; and surely nothing short of the 
wondrous operations of divine grace can subdue the luxuriant 
thistles of passion which take their root deep in this part of 
man's nature, and make it bloom with the evergreen verdure of 
immortality. It needs thorough renovation, such as can be 
experienced only by the energy wrought upon the soul by the 
Divine — such transformation as that which follows when Jesus 
has whispered to the repentant soul, "Thy sins are forgiven 
thee"; "go in peace," for henceforth thine are the freshness 
and vigor of a new life. 



DIFFICULTY OF MORAL CULTURE. 527 



This is indispensable to salvation — it is a part of it — it is 
the earnest of it ; but, even then, the seal of perfection will 
never rest upon it below : the moral nature will not be beyond 
reproach until the symmetrical development of character is 
attained in heaven. When glory is written upon the senses, 
upon the mental and moral nature, then glory will be the bur- 
den of the song : " Glory to God in the highest ; " then will be 
witnessed the consummation of that which the anthem first 
heralded, the results of that which the angelic choirs then cel- 
ebrated. In that hour the moral nature looked up, as it were, 
from its degradation and blight, and felt new power because 
of the renewing grace that was waiting to descend upon it, 
recalling it from the low condition to which it had fallen. 

Then was commenced an irrigating process that was to make 
the moral desert bloom with beauty as a fertile and attractive 
garden. 

The work was arduous. Men had each a portion assigned 
them, a plat that they were to water and tend ; and it was to 
be a life-long interest ; but the reward was to be as eternal as 
the being of God. The success and constancy of moral culti- 
vation are matters which even God and angels look down upon 
with deepest concern ; and in no department of human effort 
is assistance more devoutly pledged by the Great Helper than 
in this, the incessant attempt to separate the noxious weeds of 
vice from the plants of virtue — those plants that when trans- 
ferred are to enrich and beautify the celestial garden. The 
moral nature is likened unto a vineyard : it must be pruned, and 
watched, and cared for, or the time of vintage will be a time 
of gloom. 

Since the curse, it is a toilsome work, that must be ceaselessly 
pursued in every season of life. There is no gathering the 
harvest and sitting down to rest ; there is something to be done 
until the sun of life goes down and the obscurity of the grave 
hides all. There is no time to remit labor, until the power of 
watching is removed, and the hands cease their cunning forever. 



528 



SELF-WILL. 



It is a life-long task, and its history is replete with baffled at- 
tempts to produce a beauteous growth, which will invite the at- 
tention of the Lord of the vineyard as he passeth by. Human 
will is something that grows rank in the moral realm ; it spreads 
itself in a manner that is often odious and unsightly, and its 
roots are deeply imbedded — yea, they ramify themselves through 
the heart-soil until they underlie and affect everything else, 
even those things that would otherwise be fair and pleasant to 
look upon. Perverse affections are engendered by it, and, im- 
bibing the same nourishment, they too grow up with the same 
bad tendencies, the same forbidding prospect. It is with 
such elements as these that grace has to contend. Will asserts 
its supremacy, and declares its right to reign in the moral king- 
dom, to summon to its aid those affections that best serve its 
end and facilitate its purposes. Long accustomed to the 
throne, it becomes strong by indulgence, a perfect tyrant, and 
thus with the combined influence of "the world, the flesh, and 
the devil," which is ever brought to bear upon its decisions, it 
becomes a resolute foe in the way of a hallowed moral triumph. 
It is the province of grace to secure the latter, the aim of self-will 
to prevent it ; and there are no more determined enemies on the 
battle-field of life than those marshalled under the command of 
this last. Those who would resist must never give up the 
struggle, but renew the contest boldly, every day, — 

" And help divine implore." 

It not only creates alienations and strifes between man and 
man, stimulating to base words and deeds, and exerting to 
bitter hostility, but it keeps the soul at a distance from its 
God, unwilling to yield to the claims of the Divine Lawgiver, 
and the observance of his statutes, which alone lead on to victory 
and glory. Man's will is arbitrary ; it chooses not to yield, 
and because the divine government demands a willing spirit, 
arrays itself against it. When at last its opposition is overruled, 
and it is made to bow to the Captain of salvation, it yet retains 



MAN'S WILL OPPOSED TO GOD'S WILL. 529 

somewhat of the sternness of its nature, which is manifest in the 
imperious commands it still dares to make for the professed 
subjects of a new King and Ruler. 

Christians have to contend with self-will in all their course ; 
they mourn because it has so much power over them, because its 
iron hand crushes out so many heart-purposes which they would 
have unfolded for the general good. There is nothing that 
Christians desire more, than to feel at all times, under adverse 
as well as prosperous circumstances, a cordial submission to the 
divine will — to be able to say, as well when the hand of chas- 
tisement is heavily pressing, as when there is nothing threaten- 
ing, " Thy will be done." This sentence is often uttered, but 
how rarely with truth, sincerity, and perfect willingness to have 
God's will accomplished, though it cross ours at every point, 
though it thwart every plan we had formed, blight every hope 
we had cherished, and turn into bitterness the cup which we 
had prepared so much to our taste ! Our theory may be up to 
the true standard, but our practice is far below. 

When God sees fit to mark out a course widely different from 
that we had chosen for ourselves, and takes measures to lead 
us therein, we acknowledge the justice, perhaps, but are slow to 
recognize the mercy ; we wonder why he has done thus, why he 
moves so mysteriously, and we can scarcely see how it is best to 
say, " Thy will be done." Our will rises to declare the propriety, 
the wisdom, of that which it intended to pursue, and the injustice 
of being checked before the final results could be reaped, of 
being interrupted in the prosecution of schemes which promised 
so much. 

All this is what the Christian " would not," yet has to say, 
" that I do." He would have God's pleasure his pleasure ; but 
it is not a strange thing for him to find his will conflicting with 
the divine will when those things which belong to his interest, 
as he thinks, are withdrawn, when he is compelled to surrender 
the choicest treasures of his heart. 

If it be not always expressed, there is often a silent, half- 
34 



530 MAN'S WILL MERGED IN GOD'S WILL. 



unconscious wondering why the Lord could not do without them 
better than he — why he, in his infinite fulness, should need what 
seemed indispensable to man's own peace and comfort, in a cold 
and unsympathizing world. These are the whisperings of a 
selfish and perverse will, the pleadings of inordinate affection 
for self and the world, the tones which, if they were gathered 
up, would resolve themselves into words like these : " My way 
is better." In the regenerate heart grace maintains the ascen- 
dency ; but it is not without a conflict. The moral field is the 
scene of many a sharp encounter that the world in general knows 
not of, and those engaged in them look forward with eager hope 
to the time when they will be victorious over every foe, when 
they will be " conquerors and more than conquerors 99 through 
the aid of their effectual allies. Such a time is promised, and 
the thought of it sustains in the fiercest engagements ; it 
prompts to action when weariness and despair almost overcome 
the hard-pressed spirit. 

Blessed to the moral agent is the day of final discomfiture of 
all his foes ; that day he enters the streets of the Celestial City 
in triumph, to be crowned with " everlasting joy," and to know 
f? sorrow and sighing no more ; " that day his will and its per- 
verse host forever cease their opposition, and the renewed being, 
beholding the superior wisdom of the Perfect, breathes forth the 
willing strains, " Thy will be done." All opposing moral forces 
end their contest when the Christian goes up before the great 
white throne to present himself, an unworthy but loyal subject 
of the King of Kings forever, having triumphed through that 
which was given unto him, by means of the weapons that were 
granted from Heaven's own armory. What will be the emotions 
of such a one, with the mental, moral, and spiritual glorified? 
What will it be to become the glad recipient of everything in- 
volved in this — to have glory, like the waves of the crystal 
sea, pass over every part of our threefold nature, leaving it 
bright, holy, and transparent ! What blessed deliverance will 
it bring ! What a contrast between the Christian on earth and 



BLESSEDNESS OF UNION WITH GOB. 531 



the saint in heaven ! Sin clings to the former, and he cannot 
rid himself of the embrace of the charmer ; he cannot burst 
the folds with which it encircles him. The latter is fettered 
by no chains, encompassed with no bands, but rejoices in a 
freedom that is " entire, wanting nothing." The one carries 
the marks of many imperfections, the other wears the beautiful 
garments of holiness which are fitted to a form that is fair and 
faultless. One cherishes the feeble bud of virtue, the other 
beholds the full blossom. In short, one is perfect, and the 
other imperfect ; one is grovelling, the other is glorified ; one 
is struggling to be submissive, the other is wholly and cheer- 
fully so, because of the fervent love of a sanctified mind and 
heart that are merged in the Infinite, and " delight to do his 
will." 

tt From a will in perfect harmony with the divine will must 
flow the purest stream of love to God;" and not only this, 
"the perfection of man's moral nature in heaven also requires 
that created wills be brought into right relations to each other. 
The human will can only be perfected when it is brought into 
a relation to all other wills. In this world, wills crowd upon 
each other to their mutual detriment. A vast amount of the 
degradation, and consequent wretchedness, in the present 
world, is brought about by oppression. As, in a garden, 
those plants never come to perfection over which others extend 
their branches and their shade, so in human society no will 
can come to perfection where another bears it down." There 
will be nothing of this among the glorified ones in heaven — 
the interest of each will be dear to all the others. Selfishness 
has no sway over the glorified spirit, no entrance into " that 
great city having the glory of God." 

A perfect nature will show perfect results ; perfect plants 
will come from perfect soil, especially if all the other influences 
are favorable. The best Christian character upon earth is 
lovely, but it bears scarce a comparison with its full develop- 
ment in heaven. Truly, " it doth not yet appear what we shall 



532 WHAT WE SHALL BE. 

be." We now "look through a glass darkly" upon every- 
thing pertaining to the realm, the condition, and character of 
the glorified. To the children of God these things are to be 
opened, and with unclouded vision they will behold the splen- 
dors we cannot speak, the glory we cannot symbolize; they 
will experience what we cannot tell in human language ; what 
we fail to catch when imagination has done her utmost. " Be- 
hold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon 
us, that we should be called the sons of God !" 

" In songs of sublime adoration and praise, 

Ye pilgrims, for Zion who press, 
Break forth and extol the great Ancient of Days, 

His rich and distinguishing grace. 
Give all the glory to his holy name : 

To him all the glory belongs. 
Be yours the high joy still to sound forth his fame, 

And crown him in each of your songs." 



ETERNITY. 



533 



CHAPTEE XXXI. 

PERPETUITY HEAVEN'S CROWNING GLORY. 

The Christian absorbed in " Forever." — A Terror to the Guilt]/. — Perma- 
nence necessary to Enjoyment. — Earth transient. — Heaven permanent,, 
— Motives to seek it. — Recognition of the Judge. 

" Should coming days be cold and dark, 
We should not cease our singing ; 
That perfect rest nought can molest, 
Where golden harps are ringing. 

Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow, 

Each chord on earth to sever, 
Our King says, Come ! and there's our home, 

Forever, O, forever." — Shining Shore. 

A Christian man, while sitting at the table of a friend, 
partaking with others of a social repast, became so absorbed in 
thoughts of the future as to be insensible to what was trans- 
piring about him, and exclaimed, " Forever, forever ! " Eternity 
filled his mind, and the thought tjiat he himself was to be an 
actor in its scenes, the hope that his joy would be commensurate 
with it, overcame every other consideration ; and Ins friends, in 
attempting to rally him, were only met with a reiteration of 
the same momentous word, " Forever." Well may it absorb 
the mind of the Christian ; it has a world of joyful meaning 
in it. Not all the learned tomes of earth have anything of 
half so much import as this. It was coined at the divine 
mint, and circulated with its own value stamped upon itself. 
Salvation and forever are the prominent words of the Bible. 
The sacred writers delighted to use them ; they saw a glorious 
significance in them for themselves and others, and therefore 



534 



TEE WORD "FOREVER; 



the prominence given them in their vocabulary. The mean- 
ing has never been altered ; what they meant then, they mean 
now ; not a "jot or tittle " of their force has ever been abated. 
They fall upon the soul with the same power in these last 
days as the best prophecy of joy to the believer, and awak- 
ing dread in him whose conscience accuses of unrepented sin 
and unatoned guilt. 

"What were thousands of suffering years," said a dying 
man, " could I hope for a respite then ! What were ages if 
they would bring a limit to my woes ! But it is this forever, 
this hopeless forever, that appalls me." And a look of despair 
settled upon his wan features. The word had fallen upon his 
spirit with agonizing force, and the weight was crushing. It 
fell upon another spirit at the same time, and behold what a 
contrast ! A smile of ecstasy lighted the death-marked coun- 
tenance as the lips of the dying man parted to pronounce, 
" Forever ! O this joyful forever ! " To him the endless future 
meant eternal joy, "fulness, of pleasure," and glory of condi- 
tion. It was associated in his mind with an incorruptible 
crown, a fadeless inheritance, and a ceaseless flow of unal- 
loyed delight ; and it was not strange that he should mani- 
fest so much joy in presence of the grim sentinel ; for "just 
before" he could discover the "shining shore," upon which he 
should begin the life that would run on in blessed progress 
forever. Ah ! the word is full of meaning ; but the char- 
acter of that meaning is determined by the condition of the 
mind and heart. It may come as the message of boundless love 
and mercy, or as the fearful denunciation of unappeased jus- 
tice. It may come to the bosom as a thrill of anticipation, or 
stalk through the corridors of the mind with the giant tread of 
a merciless foe, that wakes apprehension by every sound ; it 
may soothe and it may trouble ; it may lighten the heavy bur- 
dens that lie upon the back of mortality, and it may add 
to them with a pitiless hand. In short, it may be the mes- 
senger of untold good or of untold misery. All this mean- 



PERMANENCE ESSENTIAL TO ENJOYMENT. 535 



ing is vouchsafed unto it by the lexicographer of heaven. He 
makes it one thing to the penitent, and quite another thing to 
the impenitent. It approaches one as the sound of pardon and 
deliverance approaches the ear of the trembling convict in his 
cell, and it grasps the other with an embrace like that of the 
serpent-folds, which make for the victim an unwelcome grave. 
This twofold character belongs to it ; it cannot mean the same 
thing to the believer and the unbeliever, the Christian and the 
sinner. One stands enveloped by darkest shadows ; the other 
is encircled by more than noonday light, and the atmosphere 
that is clear reveals what is never seen through mist and 
darkness. 

But we linger not longer with those who see no blessedness 
in the condition that is everlasting — with those who find 
nothing but gloomy forebodings in the word immortal. 

Those who enter the New Jerusalem — that "divine abode," 
where "life, love, and joy " are always gliding through — have 
no sweeter sound falling upon their ears than forever. It is 
by the side of these we would walk for a moment, and reflect 
upon the duration of their bliss, the nature of things supernal ; 
by the side of these who have " washed their robes," and stand 
bright and shining with their celestial raiment, having a seal 
upon which may be read the words traced by the divine Saviour, 
"They shall go no more out forever." Perpetuity is, indeed, 
the crowning glory of heaven. When Jesus tells us the life 
that is to come is everlasting, the glory that is to come is eter- 
nal, and that the inheritance is never to be taken away, while 
he sits upon the throne, he tells us just that which will make 
us supremely happy. When he tells us that the city will con- 
tinue, that the foundations are abiding, he quiets our fears, and 
establishes our hopes upon an immovable basis. We must be 
firmly anchored, or we cannot rest. If there is any danger of 
being loosened from our moorings, to drift out into an unknown 
sea, there is no such thing as being fully at ease. The surety 
of a thing is the enjoyment of a thing. We clasp our earthly 



536 EVERYTHING EARTHLY PASSES AWAY. 



treasures to our hearts, because we feel they are ours by a 
very precarious tenure, and the thought of insecurity lessens 
our enjoyment of them. 

How many tears are shed because the fairest and best-loved 
things are so soon removed ; because the heart-jewels cannot 
be retained ; because the precious fragrance of love is borne 
away by breezes that waft it to another land — the land of 
spirits ! 

" Memento mori " is written upon everything that we see — 
upon all that we hold here upon earth. We cannot go amiss 
of the inscription ; it meets our gaze at every step ; and when 
weary of the constant appeal, we turn to Truth for something 
else, it only says, "Passing away." Yes, — 

" It is written on the rose — 
In its glory's full array ; 
Head what those buds disclose — 
Passing away. 

" It is written on the skies 

Of the soft blue summer day ; 
It is traced in sunset's dyes — 
Passing away. 

" It is written on the trees, 

As their young leaves glistening play, 
And on brighter things than these — 
Passing away. 

" It is written on the brow, 

Where the spirit's ardent ray 
Lives, burns, and triumphs now — 
Passing away. 

" It is written on the heart; 
Alas ! that there decay 
Should claim from love a part — 
Passing away." 

This doom is written upon the choicest places, just where 
our seeming life-interest bids us oftenest look ; and what agony 
is stirred as we read it there ; what wishing that it might be 
transferred to some less valued good — some page not quite 



DEPABTUBE AND DISAPPOINTMENT. 537 



so fair, where it would seem more appropriate ! Ten thousand 
sighs are breathed every day by aching hearts, because the 
things of time are so transient, so quickly fade. There is 
nothing in this world that is abiding — nothing. We talk of 
earthly things that are perpetual, but the word is a misnomer. 
Those very same things bear the tracings of the prophecy, 
"Thy days are numbered," at the very time we attempt to 
deceive ourselves with the assuring words. Who has not 
boasted that some pitcher of delights had staid long with 
him, and then has gone forth to find it straightway broken 
and valueless ? This is a common experience in human life, 
and pertains to all earthly possessions ; it was not meant they 
should be enduring. w In memoriam" crowds the pages 
which meet our eyes, and tells us of sad eras in individual 
history; and, as if it were a word of consolation, we say, 
w Such is the lot of humanity — we may not plead exemption ; 
what happens to me, must also happen to you — it cometh to 
all. Enduring things were not meant for time — only for im- 
mortality." 

Probation presupposes limit. When the two left Paradise 
as sinners, life with them and their posterity assumed a new 
aspect. Then was it said, " Go spend it in the vale of tears " 
— in a land where mildew, blight, and thorns have taken the 
place of freshness and beauty ; where decay has taken the 
place of lasting glory. They saw that fading away, outside 
the borders of their pleasant garden, which within had been 
glowing in all the richness of an unfading loveliness. Every- 
thing bore a different impress, calling for the establishment of 
a new economy, and this was such as the divine love and justice 
could consistently give. The requisite discipline of the new 
dispensation called for an expunging of the word everlasting 
as applied to anything below the sun, and the living race 
must henceforth bear the appellation of mortal. If joy came 
dancing into their hearts, it was attended by another mes- 
senger, who would enjoin moderation by intimating the ex- 



538 NOTHING PERPETUAL NOR PERFECT HERE. 



ceeding brevity of its visit. If Hope spanned the heavens 
with her promising bow, they saw it soon overcast by clouds ; 
if Pleasure beguiled for a season, the enticement was sure to 
be followed by proportionate suffering, and besides this was 
the consciousness that death would soon put an end to all 
things. What opened to the exiles of Eden has opened to us ; 
what was characteristic of their life belongs also to ours. 
Things faded before their vision ; they fade before ours also. 

The days and weeks passed by them, saying, as they went, 
"Improve us as we go, for these golden opportunities shall 
never return." The months and years flew past on noiseless 
wing, leaving the message in their course, " So much less time 
to run the race that is appointed, so much to be subtracted 
from the period of probation." What they said to them they 
say also unto us ; the same voice still rings in our ears, — 

" Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer." 

The places that bear witness to our activity one day may 
know us no more forever on the morrow. We have seen the 
robust frame laid prostrate in a single hour, and that, too, 
when hope and ambition were never brighter and stronger; 
and for a moment we may have been duly impressed with the 
utter folly of leaning on broken reeds — an arm of flesh. We 
have said, then, with the deepest feeling, There is nothing 
abiding here ; it is useless to seek pillars of support when 
there is no foundation on which they may stand ; there is no 
reason why we may count upon anything in a land of uncer- 
tainties. The heart reaches out in vain for something around 
which to twine itself ; it was not meant that such objects 
should be afforded here. It would be content to remain for- 
ever coiling itself around sublunary things ; but in mercy the 
divine arrangements were made so as to disentangle it from 
these, and allure it to the better land — the perpetual home of 
perpetual joys. We think much of this world ; but we should 
think more of it, if it was true to our hopes, if it performed 



EARTH TRANSIENT. 



539 



what it promises, if even the good it brings was more lasting. 
Behold how unsatisfying and insecure it is ! If we count upon 
health, and lay our plans accordingly, disease steps in, and 
declares an end to them ; if we rely upon friends in the day 
of distress and disappointment, they die, and leave us to seek 
new support, or to go on tremblingly and alone ; if we trust 
in riches, they "make themselves wings, they fly away; " or, 
having these, there is some " thorn in the flesh," to trouble by 
its lacerations. Thus there is nothing secure and satisfying. 
The world is full of ruins, of broken columns and mouldering 
arches, that tell where glory was, and is not. Populous cities 
that once teemed with life and beauty are now buried beneath 
the soil, with scarcely a trace of their former grandeur. Some- 
thing like to this exists in the moral world. There are ruins 
there of fearful significance, telling where a structure of fair 
proportions once rose ; where the graceful columns of char- 
acter once stood ; where the soul-arches were, through which 
throngs of glad visitors marched. There hopes, purposes, and 
aspirations lie buried in a grave over which men tread, regard- 
less of what once appeared there, challenging the admiration 
of each passer-by. Thus uncertainty reigns in the natural 
and moral world. " Who would have thought of this ? " is the 
exclamation often upon our lips. We cease not our wonder- 
ings over what one change has brought, before we are met by 
another with such peculiar phases as to excite even greater 
surprise. We mournfully call it a changing world, and mor- 
alize upon its inevitable conditions ; and, pausing here, we 
should lose ourselves irrecoverably in the miry places of doubt 
and unbelief. Without Faith's discerning eye, we might not 
see a reason why all things should fail us as they do ; it might 
not seem clear why He who presides over all should make the 
pillars of earthly enjoyment so weak that they fall when we 
lean against them ; why He should institute change just where 
we would have things continue as they are ; and why He causes 
the "stream of brooks " to "pass away " at the moment when it 



540 



EE AVE N PERMANENT. 



seems to us to be flowing with such blessed results, making 
many a verdant and inviting vale for us to repose in. 

Without gospel-imparted vision, we should never see why 
He sends disappointment in its thousand forms, why he blasts 
so many of our hopes, thwarts so many of our purposes, and 
lays waste so many fields whose precious harvests we long to 
gather. 

The native desire of the soul is for substantial good, but 
here on earth it meets with mysteries and mockeries. These 
things are never comprehended until we open the volume 
of inspiration, and read the reason why the Infinite has in- 
scribed " vanity of vanities " on all those things which form 
the furnishing of our earthly habitation. He has prepared a 
place that will endure, and furnished it with things that are 
imperishable in their very nature ; and they are so much bet- 
ter than our terrestrial conditions, that he would allure us 
from these in every possible way. Canaan is so much better 
than Egypt, he would have us leave it to dwell forever in 
the former. The clusters growing there are indeed richer 
than the grapes of Eshcol. He gives us the scanty supplies 
of the desert and the wilderness, that we may better appreciate 
the richness of the fruit that grows spontaneously all over the 
promised land. He gives us weariness and disappointment, 
that we may be better prepared for the endless fruition of hope 
and rest when we have passed over the Jordan to take our di- 
vision of the inheritance. 

He subjects us to so many changes, because our earthward 
tendencies are so strong that they continually exclude from our 
gaze what he is holding out from above ; because they keep us 
trailing our garments in the dust, when we ought to have them 
gathered up, ready to pass over into the "Better Land." 

The highest ideal of all life includes the assurance that it is 
eternal. " What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole 
world," and yet come short of the everlasting prize? That 
always eludes the grasp. " Earth shall pass away," said He 



PERMANENCE GIVES VALUE. 



541 



in whom all truth and wisdom dwelt, but " my words shall not 
pass away ; " therefore, " seek those things which are above," 
"that good part which shall not be taken away." 

These were prominent ideas in the teachings of J esus — the 
insecurity of earthly treasures, and the confidence that is 
warranted by the heavenly. There is but one place where 
thieves " do not break through nor steal," but one place where 
" neither moth nor rust doth corrupt," and he would have all 
men so regard their interest as to transmit what is truly val- 
uable in their possession to this place of safety. Having done 
this, their hearts would, of course, be there also ; and thus the 
cord would be loosened that bound to a changing world, and 
the cable made strong that attaches to one that is unchanging. 
He knows what is of great price, what will result in the great- 
est advantage, and he is never more intent upon furthering it 
than when he says, " Deny thyself, take up thy cross, and fol- 
low me ; and verily thou shalt have thy reward." Then is the 
road entered that leads where " living waters gently flow," where 
everything is perennial ; and not until the utmost boundary is 
reached which divides the transitory and the eternal, is there 
any realizing sense of what is meant by the duration of 
heavenly bliss. " Vain world," said a Christian upon her dying 
bed. She had caught a glimpse of the celestial regions, and 
the fleeting prospects of time scarce seemed worthy a thought 
in comparison. The joys of heaven, when laid in the balance, 
outweighed all things else ; the latter seemed as insignificant 
trifles when placed beside of the permanent treasures that 
shone as they were handed down from the great storehouse 
of God's love. Permanence gives reality — gives worth. 
" JVo more " will have a very different meaning in heaven from 
what it has on earth. It echoes through the chambers of the 
soul here with most appalling sound, for it is the death-knell 
to our most cherished joys — it is the dirge played over the 
burial-place of what we love. It is a sad, very sad, requiem ; 
having once heard it, we never forget it. Wherever we go 



542 "NO MORE;" ITS MEANING IN HEAVEN. 



we are followed by that terrible "no more," with its melan- 
choly power. It is always whispering, No more of those 
loving smiles, and cheering words ; no more of that happy in- 
tercourse and blessed aid ye were wont to receive and know, 
for there is an end to them ; no more hours of undisturbed 
tranquillity, and no more years of unbroken spirit-minglings, 
for the Destroyer has taken his prey. It is the song which 
Time bids his minstrels play continually — the plaintive air 
it rehearses to every successive group upon the stage, notwith- 
standing their earnest protests against it, their desire for some- 
thing more lively and pleasing. They would fain believe that 
so bitter a portion is not for them ; but it is their lot ; the sad 
words are incorporated into the music of earth, and there is 
no alternative but to submit to their influence. 

The words are transfused into heavenly anthems ; but O, 
what a different meaning do they possess there ! He who hears 
them in that j)lace is conscious that " he shall go no more out 
into the rude storms which have beaten upon him. He shall go 
no more out as a stranger and a pilgrim. Not a caravansary, 
but an eternal dwelling-place, does he enter. That immortality 
shall never put on mortality. He shall go no more out from 
the presence of patriarchs and prophets, of cherubim and sera- 
phim ; nor, most of all, out of the presence of the Lamb, for 
he shall ever be with the Lord." 

In view of it, well might the Christian poet exclaim, — 

"0, glory in which I am lost, 

Too deep for the plummet of thought ! 
On an ocean of Deity tost, 

I am swallowed, I sink into nought : 
Yet, lost and absorbed as I seem, 

I chant to the praise of my King, 
And, though overwhelmed by the theme, 

Am happy whenever I sing." 

The singing bands in heaven will be happy everlastingly ; 
they cannot be otherwise while the smiling countenance of the 
Kedeemer is turned toward them, while his favor is beneficently 



DURATION OF HEAVENLY BLISS. 543 



extended — and it will be until his nature is changed — and 
such a change enters not into our conceptions. Jesus is "the 
same, yesterday, to-day, and forever;" and herein do we find 
a warrant for the continuance of heaven. It is his blissful 
presence that makes heaven, and this is his abiding throne ; 
therefore he assures his followers, saying, "Where I am, 
there ye may be also." "Ye shall go no more out." 

The foundations stand sure, the corner-stone cannot fail ; it 
is everlasting in its nature, and fully equal to the support of 
all that rests upon it. Ages upon ages may pass away, and 
the jewelled walls will glisten as brightly as in the day when 
the first fruits of redemption entered in. Cycles may run their 
lengthened rounds again and again, and the pearly gates will be 
as clear and transparent as ever ; saints may pass and repass 
the pathway leading through triumphal arches, and the golden 
streets will neither be dusty nor dim ; the anthems of love may 
be sung for a period transcending our highest calculations, and 
they will never grow old and wearisome ; they will be as fresh 
and inspiring at the last as the first. So it will be with all 
things ; time will bring no evidence of decay into the heavenly 
world, no element to weaken the blessed combination which 
the Saviour has provided for his people to insure their per- 
fection in character and condition; and not only this, there 
will be no diminution, but a constant increase, of the power 
to bless through eternity. And who can comprehend the import 
of this? The leaves of the forest, the drops of the ocean, the 
sands of the globe, have all been employed to give an idea of 
the duration of that we call our future ; but they fail entirely 
of an adequate calculation. The utmost power of numbers 
is exhausted in the attempt to grasp it ; the " eternal years of 
God" belong to it; and man, by searching, can never find it 
out. We know that with the Lord " one day is as a thousand 
years, and a thousand years as one day." It is to this land 
of perpetual things, this everlasting habitation, that the Chris- 
tian is hasting. A little while longer on this side, in the land 



544 



THE INFINITE GLORY. 



of the dying, and he will go to the land of the living, to open 

his eyes upon an endless and spiritual existence. It is not a 

wonder that expiring saints sing so much of glory, as they 

gain a glimpse of the goodly prospect ; it is only strange they 

so often choose to stay longer among the things that are fading 

and transitory. Watts could sing, — 

" One day within the courts 

Where my dear Lord hath been, 
, Is sweeter than ten thousand days 

Of pleasurable sin." 

Harriet Newell could say, in view of all the pleasures of 
earth, "For one blest hour at God's right hand, I'd give 
them all away." 

If such be the sweetness of anticipation, such the soul-fer- 
tility occasioned by the little rills that flow down from heaven, 
what will it be to be constantly refreshed " with the river of 
God ! " The things that we anticipate most in time, the days 
that we can scarcely wait for, the pleasures that we are eager 
to grasp, are soonest to disappoint us. Not so with heavenly 
things. Imagination hath never pictured those in their bright- 
ness ; anticipation hath never compassed them. After all the 
thoughts, ideas, and conceptions we can bring to cluster around 
our future home, we are still compelled to say, it "passeth 
knowledge." We wonder at the love that has prepared such 
joy, and made it eternal. Such bliss for a season would show 
a heart of love ; but when we see it flowing on, like a mighty 
wave, until we lose sight of it in the distance, when we see it 
surrounding us like a fathomless ocean, we have a view of 
infinite depths of tenderness and compassion — an amazing 
sense of what divine goodness has wrought. We say with 
the apostle, "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom 
and knowledge of God ! " We sympathize with Israel's singer 
in his yearnings to find full entrance into the holy place, where 
he could join in the Lord's songs forever. " They will still be 
praising thee," was the idea that kindled the ardor of his soul ; 
that made the flame burn bright upon the altar of devotion ; 



TEE CHRISTIAN'S FUTURE DESTINY. 545 



that made hope mount up to the very gates of the heavenly 
city ; that opened them and showed the " stream " which made 
it "glad." 

That which constituted the charm of heaven to him will be 
the same to us, if, like him, we have our hearts in unison with 
the Lord supreme ; if we wear the signet ring, and carry the 
certificate of our espousals with us continually. 

There will be no commotion in which the Lord will lose 
sight of us, if we are thus distinguished. He will recognize 
and own us when earth's assembled millions shall appear for 
their final allotment, and the " well done " will thrill our souls 
with delight, such as was never known before. These things 
have been again and again repeated ; but what can detract 
from this blessed reality? It is like the mercies of God, that 
are " new in the morning and fresh in the evening." 

Eternity itself cannot produce satiety. And this, O Chris- 
tian, is thy destiny — thy glorious reward — to enter the City 
of God, and dwell in its mansions — its costly and indestructi- 
ble mansions ; to have a rich share in its fadeless posses- 
sions ; to recline peacefully in its evergreen bowers, looking 
out upon prospects which bear no mark of the sin-blight ; to 
be ever undisturbed by envious and jealous spirits ; to be al- 
ways at rest, in the midst of loving and congenial companions ; 
to be led through scenes of rare beauty by the guiding hand 
of Jesus ; to experience a soul-expansion during a period that 
is commensurate with the Eternal ; for, — 

" "When we've been there ten thousand years, 
Bright shining as the sun, 
We've no less years to sing God's praise 
Than when we first begun," — 

and the enjoyment of this must surely make one purer and 
better. Praise is ennobling ; it exalts and blesses ; peculiarly 
so when the object of praise is so worthy, so noble, so good, 
and high as the triune God — the everlasting Father — the 
Prince of Peace — the Divine Spirit. 
35 



546 EXPERIENCE OF WORLDLY VOTARIES. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE EDUCATION OF THE SOUL. 

Home Preparations always cheerful. — Soul-Education the Work of Life. — 
Enjoyment proportioned to Cultivation. — The Sea Captain. — The ripe 
Christian. — The glorious Destiny of Believers. — Passing away not a 
gloomy Thought to them. 

"Be Christ your first selection, 
And yours his kind protection 
Till life is done. 

Then shall you rise, 
All earthly hopes releasing, 
To scenes of bliss unceasing, 
Where joys are still increasing 

In Paradise." — S. D. Phelps. 

"It requires but little elevation of soul to discover," says 
a French writer, " that here there is no substantial delight ; 
that our pleasures are but vanity ; that the ills of life are in- 
numerable ; and that, after all, death, which threatens us every 
moment, must in a few years, perhaps in a few days, place us 
in the eternal condition of happiness, or misery, or nothing- 
ness." These thoughts force themselves upon the most deter- 
mined votaries of the world, and their experience, barren of 
everything that is truly worthy and abiding, testifies strongly of 
its truth, and draws forth expressions from their lips, indicative 
of gloom and unrest within. A stern necessity is upon them, 
from which they are always shrinking. Disappointment and ill 
must come, and death will close the scene, and therefore life 
is imbittered. But not so with the Christian : he utters lan- 
guage of different character, in which words, as gems and 
jewels poured from the casket of hope, are resplendent, for they 



HOME PREPARATIONS DELIGHTFUL. 



547 



are associated with ideas of ever-flowing pleasure, of blessed 
deliverance, and choicest freedom, in the " eternal condition " in 
which he confidently expects death will place him. Such 
have an " elevation of soul " that lifts them above sublunary- 
things, and discovers bright regions beyond, that fully com- 
pensate for all intervening trials — all that must be endured 
before they land on those shores. They are "only waiting" until 
they shall be permitted to weigh anchor and sail on toward the 
bright isle ; and there are no sweeter strains that come to our 
ears than those which float back over the waters from those who 
are gliding into the "harbor of heaven," on the " silver tide " of 
grace, singing, " Homeward bound." 

There are no preparations more cheerful and hearty than those 
made for returning home after a long absence : the heart is 
light, the countenance smiling, the welcome anticipated, and 
expectation crowds every hour of the stay with pleasure. We 
are wont to speak of these seasons as oases in the desert of life, 
as very Bethels, the sight of which recalls visions of a golden 
ladder, upon which we almost hear the " stately steppings " of 
celestial messengers as they come laden with precious gifts to 
enhance the joy of the home-meeting. Thus does the Christian 
feel, seeking his Father's home in the skies ; thus is his heart 
affected when he sees the cable loosening, and himself drifting 
out into the ocean of immortality, where rises the blessed isle 
upon which appear the lofty towers and battlements of the heav- 
enly city, which is to be henceforth and forever his happy 
home. Preparations for this he deems of the utmost impor- 
tance. It demands a peculiar robe — he adjusts it carefully; 
it requires a peculiar dialect — he studies to acquire it ; it needs 
a peculiar appreciation, and he employs the means to secure it. 
Everything in any way connected with the event excites the 
deepest interest. Nothing is trivial that goes to make up the 
wardrobe which he will need when he mingles with his anoelic 
brethren ; nothing is meaningless that in any way promotes 
fitness for such companionship. There is a soul-education 
which is absolutely indispensable for a heavenly home. 



548 



EDUCATION FOE EARTHLY CALLINGS. 



We have searched for the proofs of immortality, looking 
down through the ages and centuries in vain for any satisfactory 
knowledge, until at last we have seen them firmly fixed in the 
everlasting gospel, where the storms and tempests can never 
overthrow them. We have gone with a multitude who would 
fain find some " Elysian land " as the theatre of future activity ; 
and among all the brilliant creations of the human imagination , 
we find nothing to meet the demands of the soul — nothing, 
save in the New Jerusalem of the Bible, " coming down from 
God out of heaven," and opened for the eternal dwelling-place 
of the redeemed. Here they become realities which our souls 
may take home as unquestionable and true. Immortality and 
Paradise ! — a blessed conjunction, but one which involves 
momentous considerations of fitness and preparation. 

We educate ourselves for certain positions in this life with un- 
remitting care and perseverance ; we spare nothing ; time, money, 
exertion, even our best energies are freely given, and they are 
considered a wise investment, if so be the end is realized — a 
fitness for the place long coveted with yearning heart. The 
physician, the minister, and lawyer have all to apply themselves 
assiduously to the work of preparation which must be accom- 
plished before they can enter upon the duties and enjoyments of 
their several professions. Every situation in life demands its 
own appropriate qualifications, and the fulness and complete- 
ness in which they exist are a measure of the ease and effective- 
ness which characterize the labor of men. This is manifest 
in all things ; there is an important relation between fitness 
and results. The successful teacher must be well furnished 
for his work ; the prosperous man of business is the one who 
has been made so by experience, observation, and a thor- 
ough knowledge of his trade. The most thoroughly cultivated 
man is the one chosen for offices of trust, he is the one best 
fitted, besides being one whose faculties take a wide scope 
wherein to glean advantage to promote his own individual 
comfort and happiness. There must be cultivation in order to 



SOUL CULTURE THE WORK OF LIFE. 549 



rise in the scale of being, and in proportion to this will be the 
measure of honorable distinction that is meted out to mankind. 
The education of the several parts of our threefold nature com- 
mand respect in a certain direction ; but it is the combination 
that results in an harmonious development of all the faculties 
that produces the model character ; it is the sanctification of 
these which makes the highest type — the Christian character. 
This constitutes the great work of life, the end of being ; it is 
the purpose of life's mission, that which made us subjects of 
probation, and invests it with so much importance — even this 
— to educate ourselves for eternity. We know the character 
of our future dwelling-place; we know of the society there; 
of the nature of its employments ; of the springs of happiness ; 
and it becomes a question of the gravest import, as well as of 
deepest interest, How can we best secure the needed prepara- 
tion to enter an abode so unlike this, so eminently pure, so 
transcendently holy? We are not unmindful that there is a 
place the reverse of this, and that many are choosing it, 
rapidly perfecting themselves in those things that are wantonly 
indulged in there. But we speak now to those who are inter- 
ested in the things of the kingdom of God, those who are con- 
cerned in making provision for the education of their hearts 
and souls so as to secure fitness for a higher position than earth 
affords — those who are desiring entrance into those gates upon 
which is written " Praise,'' and to be encircled with those walls 
upon which is traced " Salvation," in most enduring characters. 
The eye that is trained shows more discrimination in colors and 
objects than one that is not trained at all ; and the eye of the 
mind may so be cared for that it will look out upon celestial 
scenery with a double advantage. 

The ear must be cultivated to appreciate the harmony of mu- 
sical sound ; so the corresponding faculty of soul must receive 
its share of attention to have it capable of listening rapturously 
to the inimitable songs of the saintly throng around the throne. 
To be an admirable vocalist requires patient and continued cul- 



550 



THIS WORLD A SCHOOL. 



tivation of the vocal organs, and it needs corresponding diligence 
in the diviner effort of becoming a minstrel for the heavenly- 
choir. So with all the senses and faculties ; their perfection and 
expansion depend upon the care bestowed upon them even in this 
life, and it is equally true as regards the life to come. If the fit- 
ting process is not commenced here, if the soul is not educated 
here for its future, then the opportunity is lost. There is no 
" knowledge " in the grave ; there is no radical change in the life 
hereafter. " As the tree falls, so it lies ; " as the soul is when it 
leaves the body, so it will remain through the countless ages of 
its being. If the affections, tastes, and sympathies have not been 
brought into unison with things in the heavenly world, if they 
do not flow out lovingly and gratefully toward Him who is the 
chief attraction of the place, now in the days of anticipation, 
then there will be no realization ; for there must be an establish- 
ment and recognition of union here, to find its consummation 
there. We stand before the world candidates for immortality ; 
we are examined, and if we bear the test, we receive a certificate ; 
and this is our passport through the pearly gates. Without it we 
cannot enter ; the Keeper will say, " I know not whence ye are." 

God sends us here, as it were, to school. He furnishes the 
requisite means, and tells us to improve them in a manner that 
will promote our highest interests, in a way that will reflect 
honor upon the munificent Donor. In doing it, he tells us that we 
shall be forever blessed ; that we shall achieve a destiny unsur- 
passed in brilliancy and glory ; that we shall be fitted to engage 
in such pursuits as the holy angels delight in ; that we shall be 
prepared for situations more honorable than the proudest of earth ; 
that we shall be introduced to the purest and best minds that 
have ever lived, and, moreover, enjoy his favor during a period 
without end. What an inducement to unceasing effort in the 
training of the soul for heaven ! but " who is sufficient for these 
things ? " The arduous work will never be done until the vic- 
tory is won, and the crown obtained; how, then, shall it be 
ceaselessly wrought? Nature or humanity, alone, could never 



NECESSITY OF VIGOROUS ENDEAVOR. 



551 



answer the question. It is a momentous inquiry, and needs a 
divine teacher ; and in compassion for our need, the Infinite 
stooped down with a revelation in his hands, and said, " Search 
the Scriptures, for in them ye have eternal life ; " "Look unto 
me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." 

This is the guiding-star which appears, shedding its grateful 
light over the narrow way which is to be traversed before the 
final goal is reached ; this is a chart and compass necessary to a 
safe voyage over the sea of life ; this the only source whence we 
derive information of how we may glide safely into the harbor 
of eternal rest. There is something to be done. The star may 
shine, but it will do us no good unless we avail ourselves of its 
proffered help. The chart and the compass may be good in 
themselves, but they are nothing to us unless we betake our- 
selves to their aid. The peaceful haven may stretch itself out 
before us in all its inviting loveliness, but we shall never be found 
resting there if we sit idly down waiting for some favoring 
breeze to waft us thither in our torn and dismantled state. 
Strolling once by the sea side, I beheld a sea captain bleaching 
the sails of his ship, preparatory to a voyage to a distant city. 
They were spread upon the ground so as to take the sun's rays, 
and again and again water was poured upon them, and the 
process repeated until they were so white as to be the pride and 
ornament of his craft. Herein is seen a type of that prepara- 
tion which is needed spiritually with him who is seeking " the 
city which hath foundations " out of sight. His soul, like the 
sails, needs to be made white — to be purified ; and to this end 
it needs the action of the rays of the Sun of righteousness — 
it needs, and must have, the continued application of the 
cleansing streams which flow from the side of J esus ; and there 
is One so much interested in the appearance of his chosen ones 
that he is ready to pour and pour these upon them until they 
are so pure and white that the question will be elicited from 
admiring beholders, " What are these which are arrayed in 
white robes ? " Every way we turn we see the necessity for 



552 



HOLINESS ESSENTIAL. 



vigorous action in the divine life. There are working, wait- 
ing, and watching ; there are sowing, watering, and reaping, 
in the natural world ; and all this finds its counterpart in the 
moral and spiritual realm. 

There can no more be a harvest in one case than in the 
other, unless these successive steps are taken. If a full gran- 
ary would be had, then must there be preparation made to fill it ; 
if we would have the fulness of the heavenly garners for our 
final portion, then must we labor for it ; we must do the 
share of the work that falls to us in that part of the vineyard 
where the Lord has placed us, before we can have a title to any 
share of that which is gained. We cannot enter into the prom- 
ised land, and share in the life-long joy of its inhabitants, 
unless we make preparation for it. They would not be con- 
genial associates for us if we should enter there, without similar 
tastes and dispositions ; and we must find these where they 
found them — near the cross. We must have "holiness, with- 
out which no man shall see the Lord." It must form a promi- 
nent part of the education which the soul must gain before 
it can enter the kingdom of heaven — before it can claim a 
title to the place where nothing is admitted that defileth. 

Purity, in its highest sense, is the prime characteristic of the 
heavenly world ; and unless the soul has an appreciation of it, 
though it were in the midst of angels and archangels, and an 
innumerable company of those who are perfectly happy, it 
would not find itself blessed or entertained. When one sub- 
dues the thorns and briers of worldliness in his heart, and 
takes the Christian graces home, then heaven begins ; then 
commences the unfolding of that germ, which is sure to unfold 
itself under the bright and genial skies of the immortal land ; 
then love of holiness becomes the actuating principle ; then the 
elements of a saintly life are incorporated into the soul, and it 
only waits to be disembodied to soar at once to the regions of 
the blessed, and sing, as others do, of the wonders of heavenly 
love. 



NO HEAVEN WITHOUT SPIRITUAL SYMPATHY. 553 



This experience is an essential requisite of every candidate 
for heaven. To enjoy heaven, he must love and enjoy every- 
thing that belongs to it. To take any pleasure in its society, 
he must feel an interest in those things that control it ; or else, 
mingling there, he would feel like an " alien and a stranger," 
and hurry away from the unwelcome surroundings — from 
hearing and seeing what others find it the height of bliss to 
behold and contemplate. 

The unholy have no delight in the soeiety of the holy upon 
earth ; there is no sympathy, no bond of union, to draw them 
together; what one likes the other dislikes, and they are far, 
very far, apart in everything. Their pathways diverge, and 
unless there is a change they never can come together, either 
in this world or the next. Choice does not bring the hour of 
mutual comfort and consolation, for the spirit of one has a 
want that the other does not know or understand. The latter 
cannot tell of those deep yearnings for holiness that come well- 
ing up from the lowest recesses of the Christian heart ; of 
joyful emotions that swell the bosom, ever wearing a broader 
and deeper channel, through which joy may flow more fully 
into the soul. They have a strange meaning to him ; he can- 
not comprehend it ; how, then, can he expect to have any feeling 
in unison with the saints, where these things exist in a much 
greater degree ? 

He cannot tell of " fellowship with the Father ; " of com- 
munings with J esus ; of submission to the divine will ; of the 
pleasure of self-sacrifice ; and of the peaceful satisfaction of 
having conquered sin. This is all a strange language to him, 
— like hieroglyphics which he has never deciphered, — and 
therefore he cannot sympathize with the holy soul, for this finds 
its chief joy here ; it lives and acts so as to secure the blessed 
end of all things — salvation. The current of the affections, 
in its natural way, does not flow in this direction, neither does 
the stream of desire. They are to be changed, to be reversed, 
before they will flow toward heaven ; before the soul will under- 



554 



THE BIPE CHRISTIAN. 



stand the nature of those plants that bloom all along the val- 
leys of the heart, which are made fertile by the streams of 
divine grace. 

w He is ripe for heaven," was the remark made of an aged 
Christian, "and why seek to detain him here?" 

What constituted his peculiar fitness? Holiness had per- 
meated his soul, and his thoughts, desires, affections, and 
sympathies had become so sanctified thereby as to employ 
themselves upon just the same things that holy beings in heaven 
delight in. He saw the same loveliness in God's character 
that they had seen ; the same beauty in J esus that had filled 
them with exulting gladness ; and he had been moved by a 
common impulse with them to render loving service. It was 
for this reason that he was all ready to plume his wings, and 
take his flight into that world where he might ever see the 
Saviour as he is — 

"His grace and his glory display, 
And all his rich mercy repeat ; " 

where he might ever be engaged in praise that would have in 
it nothing but what is holy ; where he might dwell contin- 
ually in an atmosphere that is in no wise tainted with sin. 
Where this state of mind is found there is fitness for heaven, 
be it in whom it may. Tread reverently in the room, and 
before such a one, as he lies, passing away; for as ye listen, 
ye can almost hear the sound of the " boatman's oar," that soon 
is to take him to the " farther shore ; " and there he will be wel- 
comed by God and angels, to act in a purer sphere than he has 
ever known, but one which his imagination has revelled in for 
many an hour in the weary days of probation. 

Holiness includes all the Christian graces ; love to God, 
that first and chief element in the Christian life ; that neces- 
sary basis on which to rear a faultless structure ; that principle 
which seeks to subordinate all the faculties of the nature to 
the service of heaven. 

God is the Author of salvation, the Builder of heaven ; he is 



JOYFUL CONFIDENCE IN COB. 



555 



the Giver of all good alike in the earth and the world above, 
and is worthy of the heart's best affections — the soul's truest 
homage. This the regenerate being always feels ; but the 
feeling did not come until he had been placed under the tui- 
tion of his heavenly Teacher, and had been instructed so as 
to perceive a new meaning in the lesson which had passed in 
review before his mind many times before. What joy when 
the hidden truth was made manifest ! From the lips of the 
thoughtful man, as he studies out some invention, there have 
issued involuntary exclamations of wonder and delight at the 
sudden comprehension of some part of the plan which before 
had seemed dark and intricate. It may have been something 
to bless the world : and those only who have been placed in 
similar circumstances, with kindred hopes, can tell the meas- 
ure of satisfaction that is given to such a one. But what 
comparison does this bear to the discovery of God's love, for 
the first time, by the anxious soul? One is limited to time, 
and can only enrich the external life ; the other flows through 
the interior being, and has eternity for its scope. It cannot 
be shadowed forth by any earthly good. It cannot be classed 
with any other emotion. The love of God " passeth all under- 
standing : " those who know it by experience, who find it per- 
vading their hearts, who live with an abiding consciousness of 
the divine favor, — these know there is a blessed power in it, 
a power to soothe and sustain when everything earthly fails. 
It is this confiding love in the great w I AM " that makes the 
soul willing to launch away into the unseen ; this trustful 
acceptance of his salvation, that makes it depart cheerfully and 
gladly, expecting to find a mansion prepared according to 
promise, where it may forever be at home with the Lord. 
Love must have its object near, or it will mourn. The lov- 
ing Christian would have his Saviour always with him ; and 
it is fellowship with Jesus that makes him look forward to 
heaven — that glad era when he will be made a welcome guest 
there, and sing, — 



556 



LOVE AND ADOBATION. 



" 0, then shall the veil be removed, 

And round me thy brightness be poured ; 
I shall meet Him whom, absent, I loved, 
Whom, not having seen, I adored." 

Love begets adoration, and leads to cheerful service. "If 
we are possessed of this divine principle, we shall delight in 
his worship, and bow with reverence at his footstool ; we shall 
feel complacency in his character and administration ; we 
shall contemplate with admiration the incomprehensible knowl- 
edge, the omnipotent power, and the boundless beneficence 
displayed in the mighty movements of creation and providence ; 
we shall feel the most lively emotions of gratitude for the nu- 
merous blessings he bestows ; we shall be resigned to his will 
under every providential arrangement ; and we shall long for 
that happy world, where the glories of his nature and the 
kindness of his love shall be more illustriously displayed." We 
know such to be the effect of true love to God, and there is 
nothing else like it ; it opens the gates of Paradise as nothing 
else does, and keeps the eye of faith to discover most inviting 
fields "beyond the swelling flood," stretching themselves out 
in a distance that cannot be measured, and growing more and 
more beautiful as far as they can be seen. 

The heart destitute of love and faith does not see all this, 
does not anticipate this ; it is not prepared, has not been 
trained for heaven. It has nothing in unison with Jesus, the 
guide of the soul on the way to heaven, nor with the supreme 
delight of those who have reached it. It has no loving inter- 
est in any of those things which God delights in, and therefore 
it could find nothing congenial in his service or presence. 

If the soul so learns Christ as to love, then it will take into 
its fellowship all kindred beings ; it will love all mankind, and 
this love has a necessary place in the qualifications of the heav- 
enly candidate. All will love each other in the world that is to 
come, the heavenly world, and as there is no radical change 
beyond the grave, the spirit-conditions must be attained before 
one can enter there. 



SERVICE FOB CHRIST REQUIRED. 



557 



Active benevolence, too, is an indispensable requisite. This 
is an attribute of God's nature, and wherever he sees his image 
he will recognize it. None of those who have labored and 
suffered for the divine glory will be overlooked or unrewarded 
in the day when the Judge will summon his people together for 
a trial. No matter how humble the offering may have been, 
how poor the service was thought, — if prompted by a sincere 
motive it will be approved and blessed. It was the constant 
aim of Jesus, when he was upon earth, to train his disciples for 
heaven ; his mission was one of unexampled benevolence ; and he 
would have his followers bear it in mind, if they would ascend 
up whither he has gone, that they, too, must be in the practice 
of this Christian virtue. He would have them begin its prac- 
tice while they walk among the needy and destitute of earth ; he 
would have them in this preparatory school become familiar with 
those things that will occupy their attention when they shall 
go up higher ; hence his frequent admonition to " lay up treas- 
ures in heaven," to seek the things there, "to be instant in 
season, out of season " in the performance of those deeds which 
will be instrumental in making heaven richer for them. 
"Works," we know, never purchase salvation or heaven; but 
who does not know that there is such a thing as increasing the 
joy of eternal life? The one who has done a great deal for 
Christ here has a fund to draw upon when he enters heaven that 
others have not. The Saviour will reward every act that is done 
for his sake, and multiplied acts will insure a richer legacy than 
the few and isolated obtain. " Give, and it shall be given," is 
the policy of the divine administration ; it is the principle of that 
government into which all others shall be merged at last. To 
be happy subjects of this, we must be benevolent, and that too in 
the broadest sense. And what joy to belong to a kingdom where 
so delightful a spirit prevails, where the utmost concord of feeling 
and action exists ! Humility, also, that attractive grace, must 
be a feature of the character which is being fitted for heaven. 
It occupies a prominent place among the teachings of Christ and 



558 



GLORY OF IMMORTAL LIFE. 



the apostles, perhaps because of the difficulty of gaining a prac- 
tical knowledge of it. A simple and innocent child was the 
chosen representative of J esus to display its loveliness ; and it 
shines with the clearest lustre in those who approach the nearest 
in likeness to the model. Angels, it is said, are humble ; and if 
they are, how much more should those be whose memory can 
revert to years of sin, to opposition to the will of Him who was 
continually seeking to promote their highest interests ! Meek- 
ness especially becomes the redeemed sinner ; and it will be a 
coveted grace to such ; it will be an essential part of the " robe 
of righteousness," of the "garments of salvation." Indeed, all 
the Christian graces, as enumerated by the apostle, are neces- 
sary to form a character worthy of shining in so pure a place 
as the "Holy City." None can be left out. It is our mission 
to learn how to combine these in the best proportion, and the 
work may well be called arduous ; it would be utterly impossible 
without the aid promised. Were it not that a divine energy 
is communicated, — that while we are studying, light from 
above is poured into the mind, — we might despair of ever becom- 
ing efficient pupils, of ever finding the rich and hidden lore that 
is to make us "wise unto salvation." O, what blessed princi- 
ples are involved in the science of redemption ! O, what a 
glorious position is that to which w T e are called ! Who would 
not enter the school of Christ, and submit to its discipline and 
conform to its rules, since such honors are conferred upon those 
who graduate, since such fields of usefulness and happiness open 
before them ! How many look forward with the greatest eager- 
ness to the period of so-called finished education as the time 
when they will realize their cherished dreams ! But, O pupil of 
the Great Teacher, it is thine to look forward to an endless life of 
joy in the holy city when the diploma is given which announces 
that the season of preparation has been well improved, and the 
fitness secured for "fellowship with the Father and his Son 
Jesus Christ" — with angels and "just men made perfect." 
The New Jerusalem — how pregnant with meaning, with 



TEE CEBISTIAN'S BLESSED PROSPECT. 



559 



joyful meaning to the believer in Jesus ! And the message to 
all is, Prepare to enter it. Tread carefully ; the way is narrow : 
go thoughtfully, for a siren voice may be heard alluring another 
way, and the end of that is death. O Christian, if our hopes 
are well founded, it matters not that 

"Less of earth than we had last year, 

Throbs in your veins and throbs in mine, 
For the way to heaven is growing clear, 
And the gates of the city fairer shine, 
And the day that our latest treasures flee, 
Wide they will open for you and me." 



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